#just makes the fact that this is improv so much more magical

[ventique18]

I find Malleus' dedication to his craft really, REALLY awe-inspiring. He's so passionate about gargoyles and crafting them, but that's not what's most amazing.

It's that he doesn't seem like a genius at his craft. Unlike someone like Idia, he's shown to really, really spend so much time studying and researching and repeatedly practicing through probably a century at this point. And he never gets bored of it. In fact he literally says "he has more room for improvement" when he finishes a gargoyle piece.

Although he is absolutely a genius at magic and martial prowess, it's fascinating to see that he really toils away at something. That he's not a god, that he's just like other people, and that he has fun working hard just to earn a little bit of satisfaction. That what he enjoys the most is something that doesn't come naturally to him. And that's fine. It's fun.

It really takes him off the pedestal that others placed him upon and makes him so relatable.

[handbellanon]

This chicken bit is the best “Yes, and” I’ve seen in a while

[spacerockfloater]

The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @thereaperisabitch @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

[thebibliosphere]

I think sometimes it's hard to see my progress with my health because it so often feels like I take one step forward and then a hop, skip, and a jump back in some regards.

I'll improve one thing, and something else will pop up like a constant game of whack-a-mole with Symptoms. It's hard not to feel defeated, even though I know logically that progress is progress, but sometimes, progress doesn't feel much like progress and more like dragging yourself around by the scruff of the neck. It's tiring, in a 'slowly eats away at your soul and makes you increasingly mentally unwell' sort of way.

And then I'll see someone like Magic Dentist Man, who I haven't seen for a while, and the clarity of how far I've come hits me like a ton of bricks.

I've been through a lot since he first started treating me. I almost died, for one thing. He was there for the worst of it. Watched me slowly fade away to nothing until it was almost too late. But he hasn't seen much of me during my recovery. His daughter has primarily taken over my care -- the only person, he jokes, who he trusts with my 'complexities.' When he found the infection on the lower right side of my jaw during my checkup last week, however, he declared then and there he'd be the one to treat it.

"You've been hurt too much already, kiddo," was all he said, like if it was up to him, like if I was his kid, he'd beat the shit out of everyone who came before him. Like the fact that I was so badly brutalized by the medical system that I taught myself to breathe through the pain of root canals without anesthesia was a travesty he'll never forgive.

He's like that, Magic Dentist Man. He sees someone in pain and says, "Not today, not at my hands."

If he asked me to help hide a body, I'd ask how far away and how deep he wanted the hole.

Anyway. He's seen me through some of the worst moments of my life, and today, while he was holding the curing wand over my carefully reconstructed teeth, I caught him smiling upside down at me behind his mask.

"What?" I asked, though it came out more like, 'Hwhut?'

"Nothing," he said, still smiling. "I was just thinking you look alive."

And maybe now, a few hours after the painkillers are out of my system, maybe, yeah. Maybe that's hitting a little harder than I expected. Because he knows, y'see? He knows how far I've come. Even if I sometimes forget.

[aboutchriss]

Bed bugs

Pairing: Idol! Chan x fem! reader

Genre: smut, fluff, maybe crack idk

Warnings: slight choking (just a hand on the neck, nothing more) (f! receiving), dry humping, oral sex (m! receiving), make-out session, cuddles, mention of Chan's room.

Author notes: when I first started writing "Physiotherapy and Coconut Oil" back at the beginning of October, I was convinced to write it as fluff, mainly because I can't write smut; after a couple of weeks, I left it in my drafts, and leave it there till the first two weeks of December, I was under heavy medication bc I had a painful surgery on my foot, and the only thing that helped to go through insomnia caused by the pain was writing that story, I wrote and wrote day and night, and it helped so so much, that's why I was shocked when @ardef38 asked for a pt 2, so here you go love, I hope you like it.

(Kinda proof read, it’s 1:40 am as I’m ’reading’ this so, be patient I’ll correct any mistakes later)

Fun fact: I do really ride motorcycles since I was 17 (and yes I may be reckless).

Word count: +4k (I got carried away I’m sorry)

Thank you so much, I really, really appreciate all the feedback, I love you all.🩷

Sincerely Glo

As always, requests are open!

-✉️

I'm so insecure about my English. As I said, it's not my first language, and I'm always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that. So, if you find mistakes, please let me know. I'll be thankful, and my English will improve!

-✉️

You can read part one here

"Stop moving. I'm trying to sleep."

he mumbles on your back

"I can't, I'm sorry."

You mumble

"Why? What is happening, baby?"

he asks, hugging you tighter

"Uhm, I'm sorry my insomnia is bothering me, I-i don't know why."

"What can I do for you? A cup of tea? cuddles?"

he asks

"I don't know either, honestly, usually I stay in bed and stare at the ceiling."

"It's a common thing?"

he whispers, almost like he doesn't want to be heard by someone

"What? That I can't sleep? Oh yeah, definitely.”

you say, turning yourself towards him

"Mh"

"You should be tired, you know that? after a full day of work and after what we did."

he says

"I know, Channie, but my brain can't shut down."

"I have an idea."

he says, hugging you tighter, your head on his chest with his hand between your hair

"What?"

you ask, looking at him

"Shhhh, just close your eyes and relax, okay?"

"Mh, okay. I doubt that whatever you're about to do, you'll make me fall asleep."

"Shshhh"

close your eyes

go to sleep

know my love is all around

dream in peace

when you wake

you will know I'm still with you

He repeats the verse over and over until you don't hear him anymore.

You know that you fall asleep because of his voice and the lullaby that he was singing, and the way he was stroking your hair gently, but mostly because he's warm; one time, someone said that he's like the feeling of walking in a warm room after spending the whole day out in the cold. It's true he really is like that domestic feeling.

"Good morning, ray of sunshine. How did you sleep?"

he asks you when you walk into your kitchen

"Oh, good morning. I thought you were already gone and good. I don't know which magic you've put in your cuddles and voice, but I haven’t slept like this in months."

you say

"Gone? No, I had to make you breakfast since I've slept over and used your bathroom to shower. I also used your body wash. Now I know why you smell so good."

he says while working on something at the stove

"That's why the bottle is half empty."

you giggle, hugging him from behind

"I'm sorry. I'll rebuy it for you."

he says

"Ya, it's okay, you don't have to. you smell like me now,"

"Yep, and trust me, I love it."

he says

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm"

"Aaah, you're warm, Channie it's freezing today even if it's mid-summer."

you say, hugging him from behind

"It has rained all night, we didn't notice because we were...umh...busy."

he says, turning towards you

"Busy...yeah...Chan, oh my god, it was...did I do these?"

you ask, touching his neck and chest

"No, no, it was a bed bug."

"Ehi -you slap his chest- I-god, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. we got carried away, didn't we?"

he says, touching your neck and making you shiver

"Definitely, but I'm going to be honest I don't mind it and I don’t regret it.”

you say, smiling and kissing him on his naked chest

"Chan...-you say, sniffing around- something is burning."

"NO THE PANCAKES!"

he quickly turns towards the stove, swearing and mumbling against the burnt cakes

"Fuck, i-i wanted to make you breakfast."

he pouts, looking at the burnt pancakes

"It's okay, Channie -you giggle- thing like this happens when you're distracted."

"So you're saying that is your fault?"

he asks, looking at you, one of his dimples popping out

"Yeah, definitely."

you laugh

"Okay, put something on. I'll buy you breakfast."

"No."

you say

"Yes."

he says

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"And I said yes."

"Channie, you don't have to"

"But I want to"

he says

"But-ugh, what if people see us around."

you say

"You're part of the staff, and we can go to the JYP cafeteria, the one inside the building."

"Mh, okay, but with one condition."

"Which one?"

he asks

a smirk appears on your face

"I don't like that smile."

he says

"I'll take you to the building with my motorcycle."

"You-you can ride?"

he asks

"yeah, I thought you liked it when I did it on your-"

"Shsh, don't-shut up, okay, okay."

he says, covering your mouth with one of his hands

"You're not reckless, aren't you?"

he asks with a worried tone

"Me? Reckless? absolutely not."

you smile

"That smile...I don't trust you."

"Not my business, Channie."

10 minutes later, you are in the elevator, and funny to say, but both of you choose a black hoodie (mostly because you have to cover your hickeys and not to catch a cold since the air is fresher)

"You copied my outfit."

you say, looking at him

"Do it look like I'm wearing Doc Martens and leggings?"

he asks, looking at you

"No, even if you would look good in leggings, but your outfit is total black, just like mine."

"I always dress like this."

“I aLwAyS dReSs LiKe ThIs”

You mock him

“It’s true, my whole wardrobe is black.”

"Yeah, but you still copied my outfit."

you smile, walking outside the elevator, Chan being by your side

"Jagiya.."

he says

"Mh?"

you say, not paying attention to the feeling that you felt in your stomach after that nickname

"I'm scared."

he says, looking at his feet

"About..?"

you say opening your garage door

"I've never been on a motorcycle."

he says shyly

"It's okay, Channie. There is a first time for everything. I'm going to explain everything, okay?"

"You-fuck, you can drive this thing?"

he asks

"Yeah, she's my baby."

"Baby? it's huge, how can you manage to drive this?"

you shrug your shoulders, looking at him

"I just do it, just trust me okay?"

"I do trust you."

he says

"Yeah?"

you ask, looking at him, and he simply nods

"Okay, big boy, put this on."

you say, giving him one of your motorcycle jackets

"I hope it fits; one of my friends gifted it to me, but she took three sizes bigger than mine, and I couldn't return it."

"It's a little bit tight on my shoulders."

he says, closing the zip

"It fits perfectly; you have protections, so it has to be tight."

you say, zipping your protective jacket

"It's weird. I'm not used to tight things."

he says, putting his backpack on his shoulders again

"Now, move, I have to take the motorcycle out of the garage. Can you grab the two helmets there? and when you're out, close the door, please."

you say, pointing at a wood cabinet. You press the clutch and move backward with the motorcycle; when the bike is in the correct position, you press down the stand.

"Okay, give me these."

you say, taking the helmets from his hands

"I'm going to put the helmets on you, okay, and I'll explain everything."

you say, putting the helmet on him. You do the same with yours

"Does it feel loose?"

you ask

"No, it's perfect."

you can see him smiling even if half of his face is covered

"And now -you press the inter-phone button- can you hear me?"

"Oh yeah, it's like you're inside my head."

he giggles

you turn on your bike, leaving her roar

"Damn, it's loud."

he giggles

"Okay, so -you say, straddling the motorcycle pushing the stand up with your foot- use that thing to get on and sit here."

you say, patting on the small sitting place for him

"Are you sure you can-?"

he asks

"Yes, trust me, Chan, I've been riding since I was 17."

you smile at him

he sits behind you, getting more comfortable once the bike is stable

"See? You won't fall; both of my feet are on the ground."

"Keep your feet there when we're on the road, don't put them on the ground at a red light or a stop sign. You have to put your arms around me tight or on the tank, especially when I brake; you'll feel it, so don't worry. When we take a turn, you have to follow me with your body. You're basically my shadow, or even better, my backpack, so follow every movement I make, okay?"

you say

"Yep"

"Now, arms around me."

you say, waiting for his arms

"Hold on tight."

you say before pressing the clutch with your left and putting the first gear with your left foot

"Here we goooo."

you say

"Oh my god, we're moving, ahah wow."

"Hold on tight, Channie."

you say, patting on his hands

"That's-wow, oh my god."

"You want me to go faster?"

you say once you're on the road

"Fuck yes"

he says

and you do as he said. You accelerate and shift gear; the sun has been out for hours, so the road is dry now.

"How does it feel?"

you ask him

"It's like, I don't know how to explain it."

"Freedom?"

you suggest

"Yeah, yes, that's the right word."

he says

"That's why you do it? I mean, that's why you drive?"

you hear his voice through the inter-phone, and you simply nod.

"Can you go faster? I wanna feel free."

he says

"Of course."

you giggle, and you shift once again the gear, the two of you speeding in the streets of Seoul, zig-zagging between the buses, cars, and taxis

"Oh my gooood, too fast, too fast"

he almost screams

"Ahahah, just hold onto me, and you'll be fine, Channie. Trust me."

the grip of his arms around your waist getting tighter

"You're crazy."

he says

"I know"

"And reckless, and oh my god, I want to do this every day."

he says

"I know -you laugh- should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Oh, I—I'm not that brave. God, you have a big pair of balls to drive a thing like this. I could never."

"Oh, you could, and you would look so hot in one of these, with a compression shirt on-ush what a vision."

you say

"Are you fantasizing about me?"

he asks

"I mean, yeah, you as a biker? damn, Christopher, I would be on my knees."

you say, teasing him

"You were on your knees for me yesterday, and definitely, I'm not a biker."

he says, teasing you back

"I- you- uh- I hate you."

you say

"Yeah, yeah, it was clear with all the 'oh, ah' that you were whimpering against my ear last night."

he says, placing one of his hands on your thighs

"Oh-you-shut up"

you say, glad that he can't see the color of your cheeks

"Here we are person that I absolutely hate, and it's banned from my house."

you say braking and turning off the motorcycle once you're in the proper park

"Oh c'mon, I was joking -he says, taking off his helmet- I'll never mention cute whimpers again."

he pouts

"Shhh, are you crazy talking about this here?"

"Right, 'm sorry, where do I put this?"

he asks, lifting his helmet

"Oh, just bring it with you."

you say

"So...umh, breakfast?"

he asks, breaking the silence between the two of you

"Yeah, breakfast."

you sigh, looking at him, his hair messed up because of the helmet

"Ladies first"

he says, opening the front door of the building for you

"Oh, what a gentleman."

you say, walking toward the elevator, bowing to the person who just stepped out of the elevator

"Yeah, gentleman."

he mumbles, pressing the number three, and once the elevator doors closed, you talk

"What you're mumbling about?"

you look at him

"Nothing"

"Chan, c'mon, you can't do this after what we did."

"I'm -he sighs- I let you go first to look at your ass in those stupid leggings, so I'm not a gentleman."

he crosses his arms

"Oh, well, I'll make sure to put them more often."

you say, shrugging your shoulders

"You're not mad?"

he asks

"that you look at my ass when you can? No. You literally saw me naked, so that's nothing of this -you point at your whole body- that you haven't seen."

"Mh, good to know."

he smirks, and once the lift doors open, he goes

"Ladies first, of course."

he winks at you and you can do nothing but laugh at him.

after a couple of minutes of indecision, his indecision actually, he brings to the table two tall cups of cappuccino and a piece of cake for him

"You sure that you don't want a bite?"

he asks, offering you a piece of pie

"Hundred percent Chan"

you smile at him

"Do you have to work today?"

he asks

"Uhm... no, I don't think so, actually. I'm here just for breakfast—you giggle—why?"

"I have to meet with Han and Binnie for some fixes on a new song and do the usual Sunday live, so...would you mind coming with me?"

"I- you- you want me in your studio?"

"Yes"

"The one where no one is allowed?"

"Mhmm"

he nods, sipping on his cappuccino

"The one where the darker aura Christopher works?"

"Yes, that one."

"Mh, okay, if you... don't mind having me there."

you shrug your shoulders

"I don't mind it. You have a relaxing effect on me."

he says

"Interesting"

you say, sipping on your coffee

"The boys are already there. Should we go?"

"I follow you, mister dark aura."

"Oh, shut up."

he says, looking at you

"Hello everyone"

he says, entering in the studio

"Hi Hyung"

the bandmates say at the same time

"Oh, y/n? Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I-uh, I saw him in the middle of the street, he was like an abandoned puppy."

"Hey"

he says, sitting down in his working chair

"So I offered him a ride on my motorbike, and to pay me back, he offered me breakfast."

you laugh nervously

"You ride a motorcycle?"

changbin asks

"Yes? why does everybody find this weird."

you say

"I don't know, you don't look like someone who rides a motorcycle."

Binnie says

"But I am."

you laugh, sitting on the couch in the studio

The three men start working on the new song. You're not paying too much attention because

1. you're too distracted by the way Chan gets so severe when he's at work, so bossy but at the same time gentle with his members

2. you're working too, on your phone, but you're working, planning all the appointments with the members and the artists of JYP

"Oh, looks like someone had fun last night."

you hear Han's voice, and you're head snaps toward his direction so fast that you hear a crack in your neck

"Yeah, you weren't home last night. Where were you last night, Chan?"

Changbin says

then you notice that Chan took off his hoodie, revealing all the hickeys and bite marks on his neck

"What?"

he asks, looking at them

"Your neck Chan, what the fuck? What did you do?"

Han asks

"Uh, bed bugs."

he says, typing and clicking on his computer, not paying too much attention to them

"Yeah, a big one."

Han says

"One with human teeth"

Changbin laughs

"Oh shut up, the two of you."

Chan says, his cheeks turning pink

"Who is she?"

asks the two gossipy men

"No one, it was a bed bug."

he says once again

"Do you know anything about this?"

Changbin asks, and both of them turn toward you

"Uh, bed bugs are big these days."

you shrug your shoulders

"Mh, yeah."

they look at each other with a smirk

after a couple of minutes, they stopped asking about his marks and focused again on their work, recording some chorus, laughing when someone went out of tune, and listening over and over again at the song till it was perfect

"Aaaaand we're done."

Chan says, stretching up his arms in the air and clapping at the work of 3racha

"Aaaagh, I'm hungry."

Changbin says

"Me too."

Han says

"Hyung, y/n wanna join us for lunch?"

"Oh no, I must go now, maybe next time."

you smile at them

"I have to do the live so."

chan says

"Oh, okay."

they say

"Bye Hyung, Y/N see you on Tuesday."

Han says

"Bye guys, see you."

you smile

"Hyung, see you at the dorm and make sure to eat, or you get nervous, little bed bug…See you on Tuesday."

Binnie says, smiling at you and closing the door behind his back

"HOW THE FUCK DID HE?"

you say, covering your face with your hands

"He's not stupid."

Chan says

"But don't worry, they won't spill anything to anyone, that's for sure."

he gets up from his chair, locks the door of the studio, and walks toward you

"Ugh, are you sure?"

you ask, your voice muffled by your hands

"Yes, I trust them with my whole life. They're nosy, I know, but we have a rule: what happens or what we say in the studio stays in the studio."

He says, sitting next to you.

"Are you sure? I- I loved hat we did, and I love our bond, but I don't want to lose my job, Chan, I've worked so hard to be here, and I don't want to ruin everything because I had sex with you."

you say, looking at him

"Ouch"

he says

"No, no, I don't want you to think that I'm using you because I'm not okay? I loved our friendship way before what happened last night."

"I get what you're saying, y/n, don't worry, it's just that you're...I don't know…after what we did, I don't know what are we? friends? Best friends? friends with benefits?"

he looks at you

"Friends with..."

"Benefits, you know, two friends that have sex occasionally but remain friends."

"Yeah, Chan, I know what friends with benefits are."

"So?"

"What?"

you ask

"Friends with benefits? it will be our dirty little secret."

he says

"Mh, friends with benefits"

you nod

"Let's start this thing from now, yeah?"

he says, pulling your face towards him

"Yes, fuck yes."

you say, breaking the distance between the two of you, kissing his plumped lips again

"The door is locked, and we have about thirty minutes."

he says between the kisses

"Ugh, not enough time."

you say, pulling back from him

"We can go back to my place after the live, yeah?"

he nods, kissing your lips again, more roughly this time. You shift your position, straddling him, your legs on the side of his thighs

"It's not-that simple to- touch you with these stupid- mhpf yoga pants."

he says, kissing your lips

"You said that you loved them."

you say

"Yeah, and now I hate them; I can't touch you properly, which frustrates me."

He says, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his bulge against your clit

"It's okay, we don't need to take our pants off."

you say, smiling at him

"What- why? c'mon, I wanna see that pretty pussy of yours."

he says, frustrated, leaving his head against the headrest of the couch

"Mh, not now."

you say, starting to grind on his hard bulge

"Oh shit, what- do it again, please,"

he says, placing his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth against him. You kiss gently his neck, trying not to bite him or suck his soft skin because his neck is already a mess.

"You- god"

he tries to say, one of his hands traveling around your body, grabbing one of your breasts under the hoodie

"Uh? you're not wearing a bra?"

he says

"Nope, free the nipples, Christopher."

You laugh while looking at him, poor guy, he looks desperate

"Fuck, full access all this time? Why didn’t you tell me? God, y/n, you're going to drive me crazy."

he says, kissing your lips. You laugh in his lips and keep grinding on his hard cock

"Please take your hoodie off, I want- at least I want to see your boobs."

"Uhm, so needy, aren't you?"

you ask, and he simply nods

you take off your hoodie, shivering, not because you're cold, no it's way too hot in the room, but because of the way that he looks at you; it looks like he wants you to eat you alive, literally. He licks his lips, looking at your boobs at then looking at your face, his eyes jumping between your two twins and your eyes

"What?"

you ask, looking at him, moving a clump of hair from his face

"I want to suck them."

he simply says

"Then do it. Don't be shy, Christopher."

"Oh, don't call me like that."

he says, looking at you, his eyes darkened

"I know that you like it, just admitted."

you whisper to his ear

"Mphf, if you don't stop grinding on me, I'll cum in my pants."

he says

"And? there's no shame in cumming in your pants, I love to see you so desp-shit"

you say, trying to find any other word to say, but your brain is short-circuiting, his tongue is moving around one of your breasts, sucking on the nipple, while with one hand, he pays attention to the other one

"I wanna live here."

he says, sucking and biting your nipple

"Mhpf, in the studio?"

you tease him even if you know what he meant

"Mh -he breaks off the contact between his mouth and your breast- between your boobs, I want to live here, they're-fuck, they're like a warm marshmallows."

you laugh

"I'm dead serious, y/n"

he looks at you so seriously that you have to cover your mouth not to laugh. You kiss his lips, making him smile

"You're going to be late, so let me do something for you, yeah?"

you say, shifting position and getting on your knees in front of him

"Oh fuck"

he says, pulling his pants down, revealing his hard dick

"You're going to drive me crazy, you know that?"

he says, caressing your face

"That's the point, Christopher."

you say, kissing one of his naked thighs

"Please, jagiya, please."

he says in a desperate tone. That nickname again, heavy like a rock on your chest, just friends with benefits, correct?

So you do what a good friend would do, you take his boner with your hands, stroking him up and down a couple of times, licking the tip, focusing on that particular sensitive part, making him whimper.

You take all of him in your mouth, breathing through your nose; you look up at him, his head on the headrest, his eyes closed, enjoying every moment, one of his hands in your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

You keep working with your mouth and tongue, adding once again your dominant hand, just because you can't take all of him in your mouth.

"Jagi...fuck."

"Uh, language, please."

you say, taking him out of your mouth without stopping working with your hand.

"How am I supposed not to say bad words when you're on your knees sucking me off?"

he asks, looking down at you

"You're dramatic."

you say, retaking him in your mouth, you know that he's about to cum because he's throbbing in your mouth

"Baby, i'm-i'm about to."

he can't even finish the sentence that a load of fluid goes into your mouth, you swallow it all the way.

You clean the corner of your mouth with your fingers and stay on your knees, looking up at him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He says, pulling his pants up

“I’m not looking at you in any particular way.”

“Yes, you are, come here.”

He says, patting the place next to him

“Thank you”

He says when you sit next to him

“You don’t have to thank me, Channie.”

“I have to, I told you that you have a relaxing effect on me. And I’m talking generally, not when we...do other stuff, you know, even when we do them, but..."

“I get what you’re saying, Channie.”

You giggle

“Aagh, come here.”

He says, placing a hand on your neck and pulling towards him

“No, wait, I’ve just…”

“I don’t care, y/n, just kiss me, please.”

You sigh, and you kiss his lips, it’s a quick kiss, almost as if you did it every day

“You’re going to be late.”

You say, touching his forehead with yours

“I know, but I have to do it, it’s a safe space for me, and stays.”

“I know”

You say, pecking his lips once again

“I’m in my studio, I wait for you there, okay?”

You say, putting your hoodie on

“Mh, okay, thank you y/n, really.”

He says, kissing your cheek

“That’s what a good friend would do.”

You smile at him

“Yeah, good friend.”

He echos you

“Bye, bed bug.”

He says when you unlock the door

“Bye, Channie -you giggle at the nickname- don’t forget to put your hoodie on.”

“I won’t, thank you.”

He says, smiling, dimples on full display

Good friends, right?

A friend that has marked you all over your body

A friend you would go to live with just to have breakfast ready every morning

A friend that makes you feel butterflies,

A friend that fucks you till your brain short-circuit

A friend who makes you fall asleep while singing and cuddling

Maybe he’s more than “A friend”

A/N: me after writing this 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Tag list: @paboswriting (because of the mention of biker Chan, we have an obsession about him)

[mellosdrawings]

Aight, the Yuusona is done and posted, now my Pomefiore Oc!

Hayeli Callem

17 years old, 2nd year

Pomefiore, based on the Evil Queen's mirror

Originally from a border of the Scalding Sands

He/him

Signature Spell : Kaleidoscope Divine

-allows Hayeli to reproduce any kind of magic (even other Signature Spells) for a maximum of 15 seconds

-the stronger the magic, the shorter the time

-for other Signature Spells, Hayeli must have already seen said SS used in full without interruption

-for other Signature Spells, the original user must be in Hayeli's field of view

-Example: Hayeli can use Riddle's Off With Your Heads for about 10 seconds while Riddle is around, before the collar gets dismissed entirely.

-so far Hayeli has only ever managed to use Kaleidoscope Divine on others' Signature Spells on 5 different occasions only (one of which being Riddle's Off With Your Heads)

-Hayeli usually only uses it to copy regular spells he hasn't yet mastered, or to confuse his opponents long enough for him to run away

-Hayeli thinks his Signature Spell is useless because it has too many strict requirements

Originality? Don’t know him.

If you ask him, Hayeli will say he was probably cursed as a child, because he is simply unable to do anything on his own without having seen someone else doing it first. He always needs to copy others to achieve anything, and became so good at it that he can replicate someone’s mannerisms or handwriting in a glance. If he is around someone long enough, he can even replicate their accent. (To Vil’s horror, he is able to replicate both Epel and Rook’s accent, and he can even do mashups!)

Unlike for his Signature Spell, he doesn't need others to be around while he copies things. Once he’s replicated the skill once, he can do it again whenever (but always the very way he’s copying. Should he learn to draw from one specific person, he won’t be able to draw in any other style.)

He hides it a lot but he is constantly angry that he can never be his own person. He isn’t even sure who he IS! As far as he knows he’s just a walking, talking mirror.

OFF/ON modes

In Hayeli’s words : “The OFF mode is just when my stupid gimmick finally lets off.” When nobody is around for him to copy, Hayeli reverts back to his “natural state” which tends to be quite pessimistic and cynical. He grumbles a lot and gets frustrated regularly but at least he gets to be “him” (whoever that is) for a night. When in OFF mode he tries to do as little as possible, usually just reading novels or meditating, because every other skill he has comes from copying others.

The ON mode depends on whoever he spends the most time with. Pomefiore has a rather unique effect on his behavior. Should he stay around Savanaclaw students for any prolonged time for whichever reason though, he will naturally shift his attitude to match the more rugged and sporty behavior of beastmen. Hayeli has little to no control over his copying and regularly gets upset about it.

These days, since Pomefiore is taking a huge place in his life, he will be obviously (and obnoxiously) acting like a cliché Pomefiore student even when spending a lot of time with others.

The copying comes gradually the more time he spends with someone and takes as much time fading once he stops frequenting that person.

Random facts:

-Despite Vil's best efforts to improve Hayeli's skin, he is cursed with a heavy bout of acne and very red cheeks. Hayeli learned all his makeup skills by copying Vil and the contrast between his usual face and his makeup-ed one is so staggering people tend not to recognise him. He actually has a lot of fun with it.

-Hayeli gets regular headaches when there are too many people around him because his gimmick cannot decide on who to copy and makes ridiculous mashups.

-He has absolutely no shame cheating for tests by copying others. He was once caught by Trein.

-His pupils are naturally white and strangely shaped

-Vil has forbidden him from frequenting Azul and Sebek because he becomes the worst version of them with his copy gimmick

-He and Epel act like older/younger siblings

-His Signature Spell doesn't work on Ortho due to his robotic nature, and he has a hard time using it on Faes

-Hayeli is very eloquent and has a lot of vocabulary. Sometimes he speaks in rhymes without realizing

-He has a grand total of 16 moles on his body

[mclacedes]

The Idea of You (LN4)

2. The Idea of Worthiness

summary: in which lando decides to make it up for ghostin you

previous ••• next

WARNINGS: it's pretty much all angst. in-depth described anxiety attack, anxious behaviour/mannerisms, description of depression and suicidal ideation, loneliness

wc: 3k

“but what if i can't do it?”

A/N: before anything else, i want to make it clear that my intention is NOT to trigger any kind of trauma in anyone with this. the reader has been warned of potential triggers. if you are going through some kind of psychological hardship, know that there are people who care and who worry <3 you are never 100% alone!

january 1st, 2024 — 3:30pm

you came home with a knot in your chest that seemed to tighten with every breath. the morning had been a blur, an awkward dance around lando’s mother as you searched for a polite excuse to leave.

of course you'd chosen the most simple and non-negotiable of lies: i need to spend some time with my relatives.

despite it being faintly true, you knew you'd spend the whole day with lando's family if the circumstances were different.

the night's words lingered in your mind as you walked out, wishing it could cover the truth: you couldn’t bear the thought of facing lando after what had happened—or rather, after what didn’t happen.

now, the silence in your own home was suffocating. you slumped onto the couch, your mind replaying the scene on a loop: lando's words, lando's reassurance, the way his lips had bruised yours, the heat of his breath so close, his hands on you, his hands in you, his fingers’ magic, and then... you wake up alone.

now, you knew lando felt the same, you knew that things could work out, you knew just the intensity of your feelings for him. but you also knew he hadn't texted you back all day and, seemingly, nobody knew where he was.

as his closest friend, you knew that he'd only have left that way if something really bad had happened.

what you didn't know though, was how bad it felt for him.

it had been a long time since lando had received the diagnosis. after years of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt such a void within himself, he'd been told he had depression.

what they say is that treatment is easier when you have the right diagnosis, but that doesn't erase the fact that some days were infinitely more difficult than others—harder to get out of bed, harder to leave the house, to work, and singularly hard to live, specially because the latter is the last thing you want during a depressive episode.

he started going to therapy regularly when he was a minor, forced by his parents, but when he became an adult he left—said that talking about how horrible he felt wouldn't help, it would only make him feel worse.

and then the episodes gradually became worse as his life improve. for example, before arriving in F1, he oftentimes found himself fighting against the urge to simply end it all: the pain, the suffering, the disruption, the constant failed attempt at a better day, his very life.

even though he never attempted it, lando was caught contemplating the possibility of the end; he used to wonder how people would react when they heard "lando norris died, suicide", what it would be like if he wasn't here anymore.

“such a kind soul”

“such a beautiful boy”

“smart, funny”

“talented guy”

that's what people would say, in the best of cases.

in the worse of cases people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

well, following next to depression was anxiety.

lando’s anxiety was a constant undercurrent to his depression, feeding off it, amplifying it, tangling him further in a web of self-doubt. it was always there, an invisible weight pressing down, but some days it grew loud enough to silence every other part of him, like a swarm of thoughts buzzing incessantly, trapping him in a looping worry about everything and nothing all at once.

it started with racing—the very thing he loved was also the source of his most unrelenting fears. despite his undeniable talent and the acclaim he’d earned, the worry always crept in: what if i mess up? what if i’m not good enough? what if it’s all just a fluke, and one day everyone realizes i’m a fraud?

he dreaded that moment when the lights turned green, not because of the physical danger but because of the psychological toll—that split-second when any mistake, any misstep, could spiral out into a visible, unforgivable failure.

even beyond racing, the anxiety spilled into every facet of his life. he overthought every message he sent, every interaction, analyzing them for any hint of rejection, any confirmation of his worst fears. if he didn’t receive a response right away, his mind spun stories, convincing him he’d somehow upset the person or made a fool of himself.

and now, with you, it was worse. his feelings were tangled with worry and doubt; he feared you’d eventually see through his flaws, his bad days, his cracks, and walk away. the closeness you’d shared the night before terrified him. he wanted you desperately, yet that desire to let you in also exposed him to his greatest fear: that he would scare you away merely by the fact that he existed.

this anxiety could sometimes send him into a state of paralysis, leaving him unable to reach out, unable to bridge the gap even when he wanted nothing more than to feel your presence, to hear your voice. today was one of those days—the aftermath of a moment so perfect, so vulnerable, that his mind filled with a thousand worries. he couldn’t bring himself to message you, to even show you the rawness of his internal struggle. instead, he withdrew, waiting for the fog to clear enough for him to reach for you again.

but you had tried.

you: lando hey

you: i'm worried abt u

you: text me whenever u get the chance pls

you: i'm right here if you wanna talk”

there were another 20 texts of kindred nature from you in his phone—you spent the afternoon rewinding what had happened, wondering if there were any signs that he would do something to himself or… the devil god knows what.

you had barely moved or done anything at all since you had gotten home because lando still hadn’t texted back, and the worry in your chest was growing impossible to ignore.

you’d known him for years—long enough to see the shadows he kept hidden behind his easy smile. he had always brushed off the subject, deflecting it with humor or quick changes in conversation. but today, his silence was colder, sharper, more unsettling than usual.

hours had passed since you last saw him, and finally, you gave in and sent him a message, trying not to let the desperation seep through.

you: lando, i hope you’re alright. let me know when you’re home safe, ok?

the message delivered, but no ‘read’ receipt appeared. your heart sank, and as you stared at the screen, scenarios spun wildly in your mind.

lando was good at hiding. he knew how to pour himself into everything and everyone else, keeping busy, laughing, entertaining—until he couldn’t. when the episodes came, he retreated so far into himself that it was like trying to find someone in a pitch-black room.

you tried calling him. the line rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. your voice was barely a whisper as you left a message.

“lando… if you see this, please just… come home. or let me know you’re okay. i’m here, alright? no matter what, i’m here.”

when the call ended, the silence in your apartment felt just as cold as his void.

—

unbeknownst to you, he was okay.

at least that's what he said to max when he called saying cisca was worried about him. and thats what he said when he called his mom.

“i’m okay.”

but he knew there was nothing okay with him right now.

far away, in his silent retreat, a wave of coldness washed over him, and his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. that feeling in his chest was known: he was panicking.

it felt like the walls were closing in, a vice squeezing his chest tighter with every passing second. his hands trembled, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor him, to ground him in reality. he fought to keep his breathing steady, but the more he tried, the more elusive calm became. memories of your kiss haunted him—both a balm and a wound. how could something so beautiful leave him feeling so lost?

what if i’m not enough for her? he thought

a tight knot of fear formed in his stomach, mingling with the ache of longing. was he really ready for this? for you? for love? the questions spiraled, colliding with the weight of his own expectations and the pressure of his career. he couldn’t shake the sense that he was on the brink of something monumental, yet all he felt was the crushing weight of uncertainty.

the doubt crept in, fueled by echoes of his past, whispers of inadequacy that had followed him through the years. he recalled the stinging memories of being told he wasn’t good enough, of moments when his efforts felt like they never quite measured up. every trophy he’d won and every incredible milestone he had achieved done little to silence those voices. instead, they morphed into an insidious belief that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a step behind, always falling short.

what if she hates me?

with you, the stakes felt impossibly high. what if he couldn’t be the partner you deserved? what if the pressure of the spotlight overwhelmed him and drove you away? those thoughts twisted in his gut, feeding the anxiety that swelled within him. he imagined you in a world where he wasn’t there, finding someone who could offer you the stability and unwavering support he feared he lacked. the very thought crushed him, deepening the ache in his chest, as it reminded him of all the times he had to fight for validation, only to come up empty-handed.

he was scared of what loving you meant, terrified of failing you, terrified of failing himself. the weight of it all felt unbearable, a heavy blanket of dread that threatened to suffocate him.

what if i fail her?

lando was too scared, too anxious. with every breath, his lungs ached, and with every tear that gathered in his eyes, he felt weaker. it was as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath him, and the vast unknown loomed below—a place filled with possibilities but also with the risk of falling into darkness. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself as the rising tide of emotions threatened to pull him under.

every heartbeat felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, a painful pulse that echoed the uncertainty gnawing at his core. he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something profound, yet all he could focus on was the suffocating fear of not being enough. the love he felt for you, so pure and intoxicating, was also a heavy burden, weighed down by his past failures and fears. the thought of letting you down, of not living up to the promise of what could be, sent chills racing down his spine.

she's too perfect, i'm a mess

as tears spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, he felt a mix of shame and desperation. lando had always prided himself on being strong, on facing challenges head-on, yet here he was—vulnerable and exposed, battling an internal storm that felt relentless. the very act of loving you felt like a gamble, one that he wasn't sure he was ready to take. would he be brave enough to step forward, to embrace the chaos of his heart, or would he retreat back into the safety of his own fears?

with every sob that escaped him, the overwhelming tide of emotion pulled him deeper, and he struggled to keep his head above water. the thought of calling you, of reaching out for the connection he craved, felt both necessary and terrifying. what if you saw him like this—raw, broken, and afraid? what if he could never find the words to explain what he felt, or worse, what if you saw him as nothing more than a disappointment?

what if she saw me for who i truly am?

taking a shaky breath, he reached for his phone thrown on the couch, sitting on it. his hands were still trembling as he dialed the only person, besides you, who he knew wouldn't judge, but understand him.

“hey, mate, how you doing?” max fewtrell greeted him with his usual easy grin, only for the smile to falter the second he took in lando’s state: tears streaked his face, his eyes swollen and red, his nose and cheeks raw from wiping at them. his lips, split and bloodied, told the story of how he’d been biting them all day. lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his words barely making it out.

“hey… mate, i—” he tried, but the lump in his throat choked him. lando couldn’t even speak.

“lando, what happened?” max said, his voice low and steady, concern etched across his face.

“i think i… i fucked things up with Y/N,” lando's voice cracked, desperation pouring from him as if his world was unraveling right there in front of max.

the sight in front of max sent a chill through his spine. lando's looks, disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it in frustration all day. his bright green eyes were dulled, sunken and rimmed with red. the bags beneath them were dark, a stark contrast against his pale skin. his hands trembled on his knees, unable to steady themselves. his chest heaved, like the panic was consuming him from the inside, leaving only a fragile shell of the person max had known for years.

lando wiped at his face, the back of his hand coming away wet. he shook his head, sinking deeper into the couch.

“we kissed, we slept together and i pushed her away, max. i—i could’ve stayed. i could’ve—” his breath caught again, ragged and uneven. “but i left with no explanation. i went up and left her there, max… i’m so stupid.” he cried out.

lando’s breath hitched, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. his shoulders shook, and a sob escaped him, raw and unfiltered. he hadn’t felt this way in a long time—like he was too broken to be loved.

"max, i’m a mess," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i couldn’t stay, i couldn’t even look at her this morning because… because she deserves better. i mean, look at me," he gestured to himself, his hands trembling. “i’m fucked up, max. i couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t even be honest. how can i be with her when i don’t even know what’s going on in my own head?”

max’s brows furrowed, his face softening as he listened. lando looked like he was spiraling, and it hurt max to see his best friend like this—feeling like he didn’t deserve something good because he was caught in his own storm.

“lando, mate,” max started, carefully choosing his words, “you’re not as messed up as you think you are. yeah, you’ve got stuff going on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her, or that you don’t deserve to be happy. and running away from her because you think you’re too broken for her… that’s not the answer.”

lando shook his head, wiping at his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke. “but i am broken, max. i don’t even know how to deal with my own shit, let alone someone else’s. she’s this… this amazing person, and i’m just… i’m just me. she deserves someone who has it all figured out, not someone who’s going to bolt the second things get real.”

max let out a breath, leaning forward a bit. “no one has it all figured out, lando. not me, not her, not anyone. she’s not expecting you to be perfect, she’s expecting you to be real with her. that’s all. and yeah, maybe you’re not in the best place right now, but you can’t let that be the reason you push her away.”

lando let the words sink in, but it didn’t ease the heaviness inside him. “i left because i thought… i thought i’d hurt her more by staying. i didn’t want her to see me like this. i didn’t want her to see how much of a mess i am.”

“but by leaving, you hurt her anyway,” max said gently. “because she cares about you. and if you care about her too, you’ve got to let her in, even if it’s messy, even if you don’t have all the answers. it’s okay to not have everything together, lando. it’s okay to be scared. but you can’t run from this.”

lando swallowed hard, staring at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch until his knuckles turned white. max was right. he had run—run because he didn’t think he was good enough, run because the idea of her seeing all his cracks terrified him.

“but what if i can’t do it? what if i let her down again?” lando’s voice was barely audible now, thick with doubt.

max’s expression softened even more. “then you figure it out, together. but you’ve got to give her the chance to make that choice. don’t decide for her that you’re not good enough. let her in. let her see you, even the parts you’re scared to show. that’s how you build something real.”

lando’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. the thought of opening up like that—to be fully seen, in all his messiness, all his vulnerability—scared him more than any race ever had. but the thought of losing Y/N, of pushing her away because of his own fear… that scared him even more.

“yeah, sure,” lando whispered, his voice hoarse. “i need to talk to her. i need to fix this.”

max smiled softly, relief flickering in his eyes. “yeah, mate. you do.”

after bidding his best friend farewell, lando sat and tried to calm himself down by pressing his fingers with exposed raw flesh due to the fact he had gnawed at his own hands out of anxiety. he had to come up with something to make it up to you. he needed to.

TAGGINGS: @meglouise00 @rawr-123s-stuff

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

TERROR ANIMUS

KINKTOBER DAY 23 - HOGWARTS AU WITH JONATHAN CRANE

Pairing.| Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary.| There is no one that you despise more than the arrogant Ravenclaw know-it-all who goes by the name Jonathan Crane. But his fascination with you is more dangerous than it seems.

Warnings.| Dubcon, noncon, spell casting, fear toxin but make it magical, p in v, fingering, blackmail, you're both 18.

Word count.| 5k

Notes.| I'm not the best with my Hogwarts knowledge, but this was actually really fun to write and its just an au.

Typically, Gryffindors and Slytherins would be arch nemesis’ within the grand Hogwarts walls. However, over the years of your schooling, you’d seem to have grown an enemy of your own, wrapped in a Ravenclaw cloak and tie. His exasperation had seemed to grow on you like mold, being in his presence soured your mood immediately. 

Jonathan Crane could almost be mistaken for a Slytherin, given the fact that he is a slithering snake. He found great joy in others misfortunes, the greatest in yours, so you made it your ambition to never fail around him. He was an outsider in between these historical grand halls, ambitious in being better than everyone else in the room, his intelligence was undeniable and curiosity of his strength and power would soon be your ruining. 

It was all because he had a fascination with you, one that he perfectly disguised as loathing. Jonathan was never interested in the sporting scene, but he would go out of his way to watch your quidditch games, in high hopes that you'd humiliate yourself. But Jonathan always seemed to be the one disappointed as he strided out of the stadium whilst you’d have everyone cheering for you. 

“What are you staring at Crane?” you grumbled, your face directed to your professor. 

You could feel his dark eyes burn your skin from beside you, coincidently, your professor set a sitting arrangement in hopes of improving the overall grades on average. Jonathan snorted and fixed his tie, your professor continued on with the lecture. 

“Nothing of much importance” he spat out under his breath. 

Your eyes snapped to him, you gave him an intimidating glare, but your looks always went unphased by him. In fact, your enemy smirked at you, his hips shifted underneath the wooden table. 

“If you look at me again, I’ll hex you, capeesh?” you warned in a stern tone. 

“Loud and clear” Jonathan rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the lecture. 

But Jonathan would find other ways to get under your skin, it was biased, you knew it, all he had to do was breathe a tad heavier than usual to get your blood to boil. A mental grin grew on his lips as he felt your body shift in your seat, the sound of your heavy inhale through your nose increased, the way your pen tapped firmly on the benchtop. One time you caused a scene in class merely because he asked how your day was going. You found yourself counting down the time, the words of your professor fell deaf on your ears, the only sound you focused on was the ticks of the ancient clock. 

As class was dismissed, you abruptly stood up and gathered your belongings in a rushed formation. Jonathan smiled innocently at you, but felt a slight bounce of anger as you ignored him completely, he wanted you to acknowledge how badly he loved to irritate you. 

Your anger quickly mellowed out as you felt a firm arm wrap over your shoulders. As you looked up, you smiled softly, Justin Helga, only the most popular boy in Gryffindor house. Usually, you stayed loyal to your Slytherin house, but you made an exception for him. Justin was dreamy, confident, genuine and thoughtful. His appearance was conventionally perfect, he was tall, dark, broad and had a flashing smile. You’d been dating only for a couple of weeks, you were both keeping it lowkey and focused on your studies as primary. But you couldn’t be helped to be smitten by the boy with a lion heart. 

As Jonathan exited the classroom, he managed to pick you out immediately through the pool of students. His jaw clenched, blue eyes twitched as he watched Justin put his slimy paws all over you. Jonathan muttered under his breath, his hand trailed over an old book locked in his arm before he spun his heel and strode off in the opposite direction. 

It was late at night, you hid in your corner of the library, several books open and your hand jotted your thoughts away. The library was always quiet at this time, but when your eyes wandered up, you locked eyes with a familiar set of blue eyes. Jonathan smiled at you, he sat alone also, he always sat alone regardless, but he couldn’t help but to watch you. 

Most of the students were off on break, welcomed back by their loving parents with open arms. But you always remained at Hogwarts, your parents would use the excuse that you needed to focus on your studies. Yet a blind man could see how much of a burden you were in your parents eyes. Jonathan also stayed most breaks as well, you just never cared enough to know why. 

Shortly after, Jonathan stood up and walked towards you, his footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Your body stiffened as you returned your focus to your work, he always wanted to ruin your day, he seemed to get off to it. 

“Can I join you?” Jonathan grinned, his posture cocky. 

You huffed out and immediately slammed your book shut, not caring if you’d get in trouble for breaking the rules. Jonathan whispered your name as you tried to walk past him. 

“What is it Jonathan?” you hissed lightly. 

“You don’t need to hate me so badly, you know?” he responded quietly, but his eyes were loud. 

You frowned towards him, you looked him up and down. Was this him being humorous? 

“Pardon?” you replied bluntly. 

“It’s our last year of school… Do you have enough space for all of this loathing towards me?” Jonathan asked slowly as he leant closer to you. Your head jolted back. 

“You’re pulling a trick on me” you scoffed, but Jonathan shook his head immediately. 

“No, no… It’s just that, I see you here almost every holiday break, who knows, maybe we aren’t so different after all?” Jonathan explained with a raised brow, his fingers taped onto his books. 

Your eyes narrowed towards him, he didn’t smile at you but his expression seemed sweet, genuine. Eventually, you sighed out in defeat and bobbed your head. 

“Are you not welcome home also?” you asked softly, vulnerably. 

“You could say that” Jonathan nodded, his pain flashed through his eyes just like yours would.

A soft sigh left your lips, suddenly you felt bad for him. Even though you always saw him, well tried to ignore him, you wonder why you never wondered why he was here too. Maybe because you assumed he merely wanted to piss you off more. 

“So, can I join you?” Jonathan grinned. 

“No speaking allowed” you warned, a stern expression locked on. 

Jonathan chuckled and sat down opposite you. Every so often, you’d look up, glance at him for only a moment. It was like he could hear you, cause his eyes would dart up, quickly followed up with a grin. The focus on your studies seemed to fade, were his eyes always that blue?

Over the days, you found yourself actually getting along with Jonathan and it felt skeptical. Now, it’s not like you’d tell him your darkest secret, but you could make small talk without wanting to rip his throat out. Not that there was ever much talking, but his presence was nice, it was different. Only sometimes did his appearance frustrate you.

Jonathan was kinder than it seemed, he’d help you out if you ever needed it, not that you’d ever admit that you did indeed need it. Casually, you’d just sit besides each other in the library, courtyards and dining hall. Sometimes you’d get so into conversation that the grin was non-wipeable, even earning a genuine laugh from one another. Whenever small, innocent things like your hands brushing against one another, you’d feel like sparks of electricity run through you. You’d wonder if he felt it too before you blocked that thought out of your head. 

Jonathan Crane was an enigma. His interest in fear was concerning, yet by the way that he explained it, you couldn’t help but to be intrigued in his theories. Sometimes you’d notice Jonathan walking tall throughout the halls. You’d try to follow after him but felt eerie whenever he’d disappear into the woods. It was better not to know, you didn’t care anyways, remember that. 

It wasn’t until the last night of break where you both sat in one of the courtyards. You were both mindlessly talking about each other's thoughts and dreams. Somehow your bodies had inched closer and closer together. It wasn’t until Jonathan made you jokingly smack his shoulder that you realized how near you were.

The laughter quickly died, you both looked into one another's eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest, lower lip begging to be bit onto. Jonathan whispered your name, his hand slowly snaked up to your flustered cheek. His touch was melting at your skin, right as he leaned in to kiss you, the sound of two professors laughing echoed as they walked past nearby. You flew away from him, flashing your mentors a forced smile, Jonathan muttered under his breath. As Jonathan looked over to you, his eyes narrowed with how quickly you were on your feet. 

“Where are you going?” he questioned. 

“It’s late and getting cold” you sighed, avoiding his gaze. 

Jonathan stood up and blocked your path as you tried to slip past him. He whispered your name once more, you hated how sweet it sounded on his tongue. When you ignored him, he repeated himself more firmly. It seemed he had to grip onto your forearms to grab your attention.

“This is wrong” you admitted, finally looking him in the eyes. 

“Wrong? All because our bickering over the years actually meant something more meaningful sweetheart?” Jonathan spoke quietly, gently. His eyes tried to plead with you but you were ignoring him like a sickness.

“This doesn’t mean anything” you objected arrogantly.

“Stop being stubborn sweetheart, I won’t tease you for it” Jonathan assured, blue eyes wide with honesty as he slowly closed into you. “I want you, please” he confessed, begging for you. 

You’ve never seen him beg before. Never seen him so vulnerable, helpless, submissive. His thumbs drew circles as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Your emotions screamed for you to let your guard down, but your pride had thrown away the key. 

You snatched your arms free before any regretful actions could course through. “Goodnight Jonathan” you farewelled without looking into his eyes again. Jonathan watched you flee, his hands resisted to form into fists and jaw twitched from the humiliating rejection.

As the students returned to Hogwarts, so did your neglectful behavior to Jonathan. Your little holiday had to remain in the dark, your friends couldn’t know that you were managing to get along with a particular Ravenclaw. They’d give you so much shit for it, you’ve already expressed him to be a living plague. 

You sat on the balcony with your friends after a long day of schooling. Your mind was zoning out with him still on your mind. They were all talking about their fantastic school break, the trips they took and mischief they got up to. The thought of going back home after graduation stressed you out. You couldn’t wait to be free from everyone. 

Evie called your name, you blinked back to reality, your brows furrowed as you looked at her. All of the girls were grinning towards you. “Here comes your boyfriend” she giggled obnoxiously. 

Your eyes darted over to Jonathan, typically he was striding like he had somewhere important to be. His entire pompous and narcissistic aura soured your mood immediately. Of course, he was heading your way, in front of all of your friends. 

“Come on, do it” Lavender egged on. 

“What?” you glowered. 

“Pull the trip jinx on him” Evie explained, her hands waved around in contribution.

“That was only a joke” you muttered. 

You’d rant about wanting to embarrass him, constantly. Always would you say about pulling the trip jinx on him, just for all of you to laugh at him, bruise that massive ego of his. But, now that he had some dirt on you, you couldn’t even think of doing that. 

“Don’t be a chicken, do it!” Flu chimed in, a frustrated expression on her. 

Your eyes darted over at him, he was looking right at you, a wicked grin on his lips. His footsteps became louder as he approached you. Mentally, sweat was rolling down your skin, you forced your sight away from him. 

“No” you said sternly. 

Everyone sighed heavily, but Evie had this menacing look on. Right as Jonathan proudly walked in between all of you, his eyes locked onto yours, Evie drew her wand from her cloak. Your eyes widened as you saw her raise it in the corner of your eye. 

“Offendo!” Evie shouted as she casted the spell. 

Swiftly, Jonathan tripped onto the stone flooring, he grunted out in pain, his belongings scattered everywhere. Everyone bursted into a fit of laughter, you sat there silently, your throat tightened. His blue eyes shot up to you, waiting for you to do something, anything. But you didn’t, it was clear where your loyalties lied. 

“On your knees for her as per usual, right Crane?” Lavender insulted, a disgusting grin on her lips. 

“In his dreams” Flu snorted. 

“Careful, he might use a love potion on you” Evie joked, as she tiptoed around his books over to you. 

The way he was shooting daggers at you pissed you off. Why was he staring at you like this was your fault, your doings? Your brows scrunched together, fists tightened as he continued to stare at you, surprisingly no words leaving his lips. 

“What did I say about looking at me, you nitwit” you hissed. 

Jonathan lightly laughed and moved up onto his knees. His hands rested on his hips as he looked you up and down, your breathing hitched everytime he looked at you that way. 

“Was just curious about what the boys said about you! A slyth-slut indeed!” Jonathan pronounced proudly. 

Even if they wanted to stop you, the speed you charged at was impressive. Before Jonathan could react, you pinned him to the ground, your hips straddled his, your fist crashed into his jaw. The girls laughed and cheered you on, effortlessly, you held Jonathan to the floor, his legs squirm underneath you as the girls threw insults at him. 

“Next time I’ll break your jaw, capeesh?” you threatened, your anger unleashed. 

But Jonathan only smirked at you, his hips rolled against yours, you shuddered at the sparks of friction and leaped off of him. As your eyes remained glued to one another, you tried to decipher Jonathan’s expression. It was a mixture of anger, excitement, betrayal and, you prayed you got this one wrong, but lust. 

A professor called out your name, your head shot into her direction. Swearing under your breath, she strided over to you all. With a few disappointing words echoed, she wrapped her hand around your bicep and tugged you away from the others. 

“Oh it wasn’t her fault, Professor! He called her a slut!” Evie objected, but her words fell deaf. Your head snapped back, Jonathan was still watching you from the ground, his legs wide apart as he smirked towards you. 

The loyalty inside of you forced you to take the fall for Evie’s harmless spell. You were internally suspended for two days and had to write a sincere apology to Jonathan. But the worst punishment was a lengthy phone call with your parents. Everytime you hoped to put down the phone, their verbal abuse continued on. A disappointment you were, you needed to control your wild anger, apparently. The fuel of hatred towards Jonathan was reignited at full power, you could rip him to shreds. 

The next week, Jonathan and yourself seemed to ignore one another's existence completely. It was contradicting, you were relieved that you didn’t have to hear his irritating voice a little more. Yet found it infuriating that he wouldn’t acknowledge your existence. Sometimes you felt the urge to apologize, but when you took a quick glance at him, those thoughts vanished. 

The week after, you smiled gleefully at the note slipped underneath your door. Justin’s handwriting was perfect. You found yourself kicking your feet off of the end of the bed as you read it over and over again.

You’re the color of green

Your beauty dances like leaves in the wind

You fuel my sweet nature

My luck has struck with you

Meet me in the old theater room at 8pm x

Justin

The poem was cheesy without doubt. But you didn’t care, it was romantic gestures like these that always made your heart swoon. You hid the note and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. The grin on your lips couldn’t be wiped off, thankfully you were alone for no nosy snakes to interrogate you.

You slithered your way out of your common room. The cloak remained over your head as you rushed to the fourth floor. There weren't many lurking around in these areas, but you couldn’t help but to feel a rush of excitement surge through you. 

With your head poking in both directions, you opened the door and slipped into the theater. The room was dark, you raised your wand and the candles turned lit. But the room was empty, cold and honestly, it felt slightly off. It was exactly eight, but Justin seemed to be nowhere in sight. You slowly stepped down towards the stage, your eyes lingered over the empty rows of seats, your anxiety came together in your stomach. 

The footsteps you heard were all too familiar. Your brows scrunched as he came into sight on the stage. As you observed Jonathan, your eyes widened and fists formed, of course this was a stupid ploy from him. There were no words you could form, but your anger brewed and Jonathan found amusement from it. 

“You really are easy, huh?” Jonathan joked, your silence was his glory. “Can I tell you a secret?” Jonathan asked, his voice echoed throughout the room. 

“What? You’re a fucking creep?” you insulted, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’ve come across a book of spells, far too dangerous to be taught within these school grounds” Jonathan disclosed, his arms raised wide as if it was something to be proud of. 

“You seem to be the one with the tongue of a snake” you snarled. “You’re such a freak! You know that right!” you shouted, veins popped out. 

The anger was uncontrollable, you wanted to abuse him in every way possible at this moment. Jonathan laughed and jumped off the stage, his hands rested on his hips as he walked towards you. You continued on, calling him every name in the book. With how caught up you were in your anger, you didn’t notice him close the distance inbetween you too. 

Jonathan wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately, his tongue slipped to the back of your throat. At first, your body accepted the kiss but you managed to shove him off of you and slapped him across the cheek. The strike echoed, redness pulsed over his skin as he smirked towards you. 

“You’re a pig” you spat before you spun your heel and stormed towards the exit. 

“I’ll only tell you to stop once” Jonathan warned. 

But there was no concern in his voice for his next actions. You replied but giving him the finger, the door growing closer. Jonathan pulled his wand from his pocket and flipped it for dramatic effect, as he pointed the tip at you, he casted the spell. 

“Terror animus!” Jonathan roared. 

A flash of green struck you, the mist swarmed around your entire body as you gasped out for air. Quickly, you tumbled to the fall as you tried to breathe. Jonathan smirked, he slowly moved in, his head moved around to observe every reaction surging through you. You were on your side, your body shivering as Jonathan rested his shoe on your hip and guided you on to your back. You looked at him fearfully, Jonathan couldn’t help but to groan out, a truly wicked grin on his lips. 

“Jon-Jon-Jonathan… What have you done to me” you wheezed, your hands up to your chest. 

Your chest felt like it was going to implode. The speed that your heart was beating seemed physically impossible, you couldn’t breathe, your throat was completely swelled up. Through glossy eyes, you could point out Jonathan’s figure, but his feature was completely darkened, you cowered before him. 

“Fear is a fascinating concept, isn’t it?” Jonathan teased as he bent down beside you. 

Your body shivered, you looked so cold, so helpless, like a frightened puppy. It felt inhumane for Jonathan not to pull you into his arms. He stroked the strains of your hair behind your ears, he smiled innocently at you. 

“There, there… You’ll be okay, the spell is only temporary…” Jonathan cooed, as if his words didn’t enter your brain all jumbled up. His voice was demonic, blue eyes burnt into your soul. He easily pulled off your cloak, his eyes admired all of your curves. 

Your body latched onto him for dear life, your eyes squeezed shut as you begged for this nightmare to be over. It was the perfect melody for him. Jonathan tutted by your ear, his hand rubbed your bare thigh just below the hem of your skirt, he always thought the length of your skirt played a dangerous game. You moaned out softly as he gently caressed your skin, his mouth hung wide open, a wicked grin grew on his lips as he observed your eyes roll back, tongue poke out of your open lips, throat swallow intensely. 

On his knees, Jonathan shifted his hips as he felt his trousers to be rather tight. But when the friction caused him to groan out, his head turned to look at the bulge in his pants. A sly smirk rested on Jonathan’s sinister lips, he looked back at you, your eyes batted fearfully at him. 

“Oh my, you’ve gotten me all erect” Jonathan commented casually. 

He made sure to rub his bulge over your bare thighs, you stammered out, your heartbeat rose once more. In an attempt to push your weak body off of him, Jonathan squeezed you against him. 

“I’m going to get you expelled, you’re going to be locked up!” You choked out, eyes swelled with the horror imagery of laying with him. 

Jonathan chuckled and laid you on the cold wooden flooring, he straddled your hips and effortlessly pinned your arms above your head. Taking your jaw in his hand, he pointed your face at his, your swollen eyes blinked slowly. 

“No… You won’t tell a soul, or I’ll make sure that you’ll stay in this state for eternity. You’ll be locked up in a madhouse for the rest of your days” Jonathan laughed darkly as he kissed your cheek. 

“N-no Jon-Jon-ahh” you squirmed. 

Jonathan continued to kiss you softly, tenderly around your heated face. Then his lips teased you by brushing over yours, just like a snake teasing its prey. His intelligence was clearly underestimated. Right when you believed Jonathan would kiss you, he brought to light your new agreement. 

“I have a variety of spells I desire to test on. The species of animals I’ve been testing on doesn’t satisfy me. I need a human subject, so come on, be ambitious for me! Perhaps this can teach you some loyalty, I know you lack that” Jonathan snarled your new agreement, a sinister smirk trapped on his lips. 

You shook your head at the proposition, he was crazy. But Jonathan snorted at your response before he passionately kissed you. You were too terrified to fight back, so you allowed his venomous tongue to slither down into your throat. His hand slipped into your loose hair, twirling it around his fingers before he pulled your head back. 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to do any permanent damage to you. But you’re going to be my little lab rat, you got that? Gonna be my good girl. I’ll experiment on you, then to reward you for your scientific sacrifice, you’ll sit on my cock” Jonathan smirked, your skirt had already rode up to your waist, so his crotch grinded against your exposed cream panties with a growing damp spot. 

“Jonathan please!” you begged, tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“Shush, I’ll be gentle, I promise” Jonathan soothed, his hands traveling to your hips. 

It was like there was an invisible bind to your wrists, you were too fearful to move. His slim digits teased around your panties, once they looped around the bands, he tugged them down to your knees. An animalistic growl left his lips as he stroked your folds, they were glistered, you wanted him just as badly. Without forewarning, Jonathan pushed a digit inside of you, his dark eyes widened with arousal at the tight warmth. Once his digit completely vanished inside your sweet walls, he added another. The palm of his hand rubbed over his bulge, his eyes couldn’t get enough. They’d constantly snap from your pussy to your gorgeous expressions. The moans you whined out were to die for. 

As he took his fingers into his mouth, he unbuckled his pants and pulled out his cock. His body fell on top of yours, hands spread your legs apart, he looked you deeply in the eye as he lined his tip with your entrance. You stared back at him with wide eyes, blossoming with fear. Jonathan moaned out, a pure smile of glee fullness on his lips. 

“Forgive me, I’ve never been with a girl before” Jonathan muttered as he pressed his length in. “But I’ve studied human anatomy inside out, literally. So this shouldn’t be too difficult to navigate” he continued on as he slowly pushed himself in further. 

Jonathan shuddered out, the vibrations of pleasure rolled over him. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, the moans that formed out of his mouth were damn right pathetic. But there was not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his figure. Even though you hadn’t seen his size, you could still manage to figure how large he was. But you weren’t sure if it was just a trick in your mind, or if he was actually going to rip you in half. 

“How many cocks have you had, hm?” Jonathan asked, his cock halfway in. 

“T-two..” you choked out. 

Jonathan flared his nostrils at your answer. A massive part of him really hoped you’d say that you were a virgin too. Your arms latched around him, despite how badly you wanted to bash his head in, you needed to hold onto reality. Jonathan smiled as he continued to push his cock into your velvet walls, every push ran a new wave of pleasure over him. 

“Knew you wanted me, you were too much of a stuck up bitch to convince me otherwise” Jonathan hissed out, his cock almost buried in deep.

You whined out in response, your walls squeezed him repetitively. Even though your vision was blurred, Jonathan’s presence felt frightening, intimidating. His breaths were like a beast, his mouth nibbled over your earlobe whilst his hands squeezed your breasts through your shirt. 

“You’ll show me some fucking respect from now on” Jonathan commanded harshly. 

You whimpered out and nodded your head quickly towards him, desperately feeling a compulsion to obey him. That sweet, timid expression of yours was pathetic, it made his cock twitch rapidly in between your tight walls. 

“You’re so beautiful when you’re afraid” Jonathan complimented softly. Then, like a balloon popping, Jonathan felt his orgasm reach the edge. “Oh fuck” Jonathan whined as he quickly yanked his cock out of you. 

He couldn’t risk getting you pregnant, he at least needed to have some fun with you first. Jonathan pumped his coated cock in his hand, his ropes of white spurted across your stomach and shirt that fell loose from your skirt, Jonathan cursed to himself as his strokes slowed down. His chest undulated as his eyes fluttered, a permanent smirk was locked on his lips as he squeezed the base of his shaft. 

“I’ll stay with you until the spell wears off” Jonathan heaved out. 

He tucked himself back into his pants, propped himself back onto his elbows as he grinned widely to himself. He observed your timid state, your body continued to shiver, from a mixture of the coldness, pleasure and fear. The semen on your body was wiped off with your cloak. 

“H-h-how lon-ng?” you squeaked, body still trembling like leaves in the wind. 

“I’m not entirely sure, there's a number of factors to take into consideration” Jonathan replied. 

You inched closer to him, Jonathan sighed and welcomed you into his arms, he held you tight. A part of Jonathan regretted not bringing a notepad to jot down everything. Oh well, he was sure he’d remember this perfectly. His fingers teased your sensitive entrance, your hips rocked against him, breathing deep as you kept your face buried in the crook of his neck. 

“Quite fascinating” Jonathan commented with his fingers deep inside of you, you moaned as his fingers curled. “Should we just stay here the night? Hm? It’s quite cozy and certainly secluded…” Jonathan suggested devilishly. 

It wasn’t exactly cozy, but there was enough supplies hidden behind the stage to change that. When Jonathan left, you anxiously waited for him to come back. It felt like he was gone for hours, even though it was only a few minutes. He’d returned with old thick blankets in his arms, ones that were used in a play years ago. The sheet is laid on the ground and Jonathan rolled you onto it, he draped the large fabric across your bodies and held you.

“You belong to me now, capeesh?” Jonathan mocked, a cheeky grin on his lips. You looked up at him and slowly batted your tear filled lashes.

“Yes Jonathan” you replied as his fingers trailed back down to your core. 

“You should have submitted yourself to me in the courtyard” Jonathan clicked his tongue. 

But there was no regret on his end. This ordeal seemed much more fitting anyways. How was it that you were the Slytherin, yet he was the viper and you were nothing more than a helpless mouse.

[reverieblondie]

I really like the shy s/o headcanons you did. If I can, I’d like to request hcs of Haarlep, Gale, Halsin, & Astarion (& anyone else you might feel like adding) w/ a s/o that’s almost always cool and collected (sort of like a kuudere).

Thanks! 💜

So I am unsure If I didn't go cool enough or if I went to Kuudere for this request, but I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Gale

Gale isn't exactly sure how to explain why his heart stirs when he sees you, it just does. You could be reading quietly by the campfire or cutting down enemies, but he always has the same thought when he sees you: Elegance. Your stoic demeanor and how you carry yourself with such grace have been swirling in his brain since your first meeting. You could be covered in any amount of filth but you will still have that keen look in your eye and speak in such an articulated fashion that to him it sounds like poetry, though you know it's not. Posed and a cool tone always the same, Gale finds a certain comfort from being around you. It's kinda nice he's always close by. Sure, he can be a dork, but Gale feels things so deeply, a thing you wish you could relate more to. Though with Gale you find that a part of you is becoming softer, it's mainly directed towards him but it's an improvement. Gale admires you and you think he deserves to be as equally admired and you don’t mind being that person for him. It only will lead to him falling for you more. 

You and Gale were enjoying a moment together in his tent. It had become something like a ritual that at the end of the day as everyone settled into their tents Gale would read aloud a book to you or anyone else who wanted to join. Tonight, however, his tent only had one guest, you. As Gale read his eyes flicked up toward where you were sitting beside him listening intently. You two had found yourselves in the position before on other nights, but tonight was different. You were quiet and so close, in fact from how close he could smell the subtle sweetness that laces itself to your skin. Always so elegant, even now with your hair slightly disheveled from the day. Sitting so patiently for him to continue reading. Gently, Gale brushes the hair back, his fingers grazing you so delicately. Looking at the text you see his smile as he slightly leans in, you follow his lead without a second thought. Forgetting all about the story and relishing in the passionate kiss. You were both happy nobody joined you two for the story that night. 

Gale is always showing you his appreciation in any way he can. Making dinner for you and the rest of the camp. Reading to you and recommending books. Teaching you what he knows about magic, turns out he's a great teacher. You just want to be able to show your appreciation to him, you can just kiss him or go to his tent later and show him what he means to you ,but you want to work on expressing yourself. You were helping him prepare dinner for everyone, as he cooked and would look over at you he would have that same sweet smile on his face. It’s time to express yourself and dig deep. “Do you know how much you mean to me? You are wonderful, and…I’m happy to be yours.” Hours later Gale was still giddy from the sudden phrase. 

Though you try to express your love for Gale through words like he so often does, sometimes words just lack the way you truly feel for him. That's how you two often end up in this situation. Gale with a fist full of your hair bites his lip as he watches you through lidded eyes. He's cummed twice now but you're still down there sucking and licking on him, overstimulating him for more. Though he's completely flushed, you're still looking up at him with those keen eyes as cool as always. On the inside your body is a flame of want, but you know how much he loves your elegant lips wrapped around him. Don’t worry it's your turn after he gives you one more…

Haarlep

You drive them crazy…You're so calm and collected at all times, despite their teasing and taunting you never give anything away. Harrlep wants you to break, they are desperate to be the cause and are very open about telling you this. But you always keep your cool demeanor. It's become a game for them, to be the one to have your resolve tremble down to lust. You on the other hand find their want oddly amusing. Typically games like this don’t interest you but the amount of time Haarlep devotes to you, the way their hungry eyes rake over you does make something in you stir…Maybe one day you will let their game progress, but it will be on your terms, for now, they will have to be pleased with your smiles as you leave them hanging. The chase makes it all the better. 

They had grown tired of the game as they watched you ramage around the House of Hope looking for whatever artifact you needed this time on your adventure. Haarleps fiery eyes watched as you were browsing around not even turning to share a glance with them. Haarlep had tried it all, whispering filth in your ear, running their tail up and down your back, hells they even tried ignoring you back but nothing worked in making you want them. Now here you are alone with them and still nothing. Their irritation grew till they finally cracked. Grabbing your arm Haarlep spun you around to grab your chin “I don’t take kindly to be ignored.” they growled right before they brought their lips to yours and kissed you. The kiss was raw and passionate, their heated lips made you feel like you caught an instant fever. Haarlep had to hold your weight as your limbs turned to jelly. A sudden rush in your lower stomach was tempting you with depraved thoughts of more. They tasted like the finest wine you could indulge in forever if you wanted to. As they broke the kiss and looked at you expectantly for any kind of reaction; hate, want, anything to tell them you felt anything at all. Haarleps eyes widened at what they saw and their lips spread to a delighted smile. Your eyes doe like in a breathless expression with the tinting of red to your cheeks. You were blushing because of them. 

After defending Raphael Haarlep was free to do whatever they wanted and what did they decide to do? Join you on your adventures, though the relationship between you two was never defined exactly you knew that deep down you were theirs, your soul be damned. Haarlep was always waiting for you and though they would play it off as just for fun you saw the way their eyes would soften when you emerged to your room. Though, sometimes you felt like Haarlep was putting on a show for you at times. You want them to be comfortable and not have to perform for you. “No games Haarlep…Can I please just hold you?” When you first asked this Haarlep seemed confused by the idea of cuddling, but as they laid their head against your chest to have you then softly you wrapped your arms around them. Haarlep lays there in your arms silent, the only noises are the soft sounds of your breathing and the thrumming of your heart. This intimacy…stirs something within them…

Haarlep is always the one to take the lead in your relationship, you figured they liked the feeling of control. But after they made a teasing comment about you needing to be more aggressive with what you want, you took it to heart, and they were so happy you did. They were getting drunk off it, your moans leaving your swollen lips as they held your wrist in their warm hands. You bounce up and down on them, taking them in so deeply. You're delicious as you tighten around their cock so close to coming undone but holding back. Your eyes are watching Haarlep so intently, it's strange they rarely ever get raddled during sex but with how you are looking right now they might be the ones to come undone first this time…

Halsin

You're different compared to others he has encountered. Halsin is so used to people becoming nervous or giddy when he is around, some disdain him, many are eager to befriend him, and then there are others wanting to bed him. But you? You never give anything away to how you might feel…well that was the case till he figured you out. It was a simple praise, he thought nothing much of it as he told you how good you were. The way your cheeks glowed red as your eyes stayed to his…it was a slight crack to your shield and he wanted more, he wanted to watch you blush and be the reason for it, he wanted you to feel better and have all the praise you deserved. Halsin would praise you every day just so he could witness your flustered features. Halsin figured out how to get past your shields and despite this usually being something to mortify you, it was instead a welcomed change. It's odd feeling vulnerable to another person but Halsin is a gentle soul, he will treat you tenderly.

Halsin had invited you out on one of his typical hikes through nature as the others visited the nearby town. Halsin being a druid preferred nature to make him more relaxed and you preferred being around Halsin so it was a win-win situation. Halsins soothing voice and calm dementor always put you at ease, though today as you walk closely to his towering figure something deep within you stirs. You come to an abrupt stop and he follows looking down at you curiously. His hazel eyes took you in then smiled softly, it made your heart skip and you finally knew what was happening to you. “I think I want to kiss you.” You say bluntly. Halsin looks at you surprised then smirks, “You think, or you know?” You stare at him, not breaking your gaze, “I know I do.” Halsin opens his arms out to embrace you, “Then come here.” His voice purrs. You place your hands on his wide chest and let him take the lead. The kiss was slow and intimate and tasted like honey.

Halisn is a giver, he is always bringing you gifts like flowers, fresh ingredients, rare stones, and his favorite showering you in praise till your cool dementor falters and you blush like an idiot. You want to do something for him, give him something that you know he would enjoy. After much consideration and time, you had the perfect gift. You approached him very casually with it hidden behind your back. Halsin, not being a fool, knew something was up when you were already blushing and he hadn’t praised you yet. When you finally revealed it he felt his heart squeeze. A poorly made wooden duck, “You make it look so easy…” you say simply and he can’t help but laugh, the rest of the day he told you how to properly make a wood carving. It's now become your favorite bonding time.  

Lovers in the past have always been so ravenous when it came to intimacy with him. Scratching, Biting, just being rough in general. You, however, treat him as if he were made of glass, blushing softly, cooing, and caressing him tenderly. Halsin has seen you in a fight, you are forced to be reckoned with, but in the intimacy in his arms, you are blushing and sweet. You speak every honeyed praise that comes to your mind as he goes down on your drinking in your release. Your voice in pleasure is becoming his favorite song these days. 

Rolan

When he first laid eyes on you he immediately thought you were one the coolest people he’s ever seen. It was right after a fight, your teammates were cheering and hollering as you all came into the grove, and you walked in the background watching your ragtag group. Then your eyes met his. You didn’t wave, or smile, you just simply gave a nod towards him. Cal and Lia swear they have never seen Rolan blush so much, of course, he denied it, but on the inside his heart was racing. After that day he found himself wanting to have you think he was as impressive. Lucky for him you did find him impressive, not only because he was a talented wizard but because he was an ambitious dreamer. You admired all he did for his family and found yourself lightening up every time you got to talk to him. His rich voice always made your head fill with stars despite your cool outside. As a couple you and Rolan are almost inseparable, you're always there to be his calming present and he brings an extra spark to your life. He might think you're the cool one, but in your eyes it's him.   

Rolan had done what Cal and Lia deemed impossible, he managed to ask you out on a date finally and was successful. A sunset stroll through the city was the plan and it was going well. Rolan was putting on his best confident demeanor as you listened to him intently, your bright eyes watching him carefully. Gods, how he loved your eyes, hair, body, and lips. Rolan felt his palms getting sweaty as he kept glancing at you. Each time his eyes landed on your perfectly kissable lips. He wanted so badly to just grab you and kiss your lips, stealing a taste for him to hold onto forever. Though his stuttering and nerves were getting in the way of that, he wanted you to think he was cool and collected, a perfect match for you. He can’t just grab you and kiss you!  Tail swishing around irritatedly, he is chastising himself to get a grip on his emotions and to stop staring at you so desperately. Then feels his collar being pulled and suddenly your lips are on his. All of Rolans resolve leaves as he grabs your hips and deepens the kiss to one of desperate hunger. Backing you up to the closeted ally he wraps his tail around your leg as his tongue pushes into your mouth finally tasting you. Breaking from the kiss to catch your breath Rolan accidentally lets a whimper slip from his throat. “You…kissed me, why?” You shrug, “I figured you wanted to considering how you kept staring at my lips.” Rolan groans, “You must find me pathetic…” you touch your hand to his cheek and kiss his lips again, “No, I think you're just passionate. Makes me want to be more like you.” Rolan felt the blush creeping to his ears, it was the best date. 

Rolan worked so hard it was something you both admired about him but it also made you worried for him. He just worked so hard to provide for his family. You wish you could do something for him to help, but pulling him away from his desk is often an impossible task. He was in his study for what might have been hours now. Entering his study you saw him scribbling away, it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked up. In your hands a tray of his favorite meal he had mentioned his adoptive mother making for him Cal and Lia as kids. He was a bit shocked you remembered him talking about the dish. Placing the tray down you cooed at him to take a break. And as he smelt the food he found that he was incredibly hungry. As he ate you undid his hair and scratched your nails on his scalp. Lending down you told him to join you for a bath and he of course couldn’t deny you.  

He just couldn’t help himself anymore, watching you handle everything effortlessly, always acting so cool…he needed you, now… His buckle was gently knocking against the shelf, your head leaning back against him as his breathy whines rang in your ear. Hard thrust drives his cock deeper and deeper, the tip nudging against your sweet spot. Then he brings his tail in and your cool demeanor melts away and you're a moaning crying mess. Rolan brings his hand to cover your cries…His hot breath pants in the shell of your ear, “Keep it down…The customers will hear you…” Nothing makes him feel more confident than feeling you come undone… 

Wyll

If Wyll had to pick anyone to follow blindly into a fight it would be you. You're smart and tactful, you keep a level head despite anything. Wyll sees you as the perfect definition of a leader and he would follow you to the hells if you needed it. Though if anyone asked you the same question you would answer that Wyll makes the better leader with his kind-hearted nature and determination. Despite you being quiet you find that with Wyll it doesn't matter, he can carry the conversion easily for the two of you and it wouldn’t even get awkward. You two just enjoy being around each other, you bring out the best in each other. With Wyll you are more gentle and he helps you see the world in a less harsh perspective. with him by your side you find yourself understanding and experiencing more emotions you didn't think you ever would. With you around Wyll finds fulfillment, if someone like you sees him as someone you want to be with maybe he is not as worthless as he once thought. You two are each other's perfect complement.

After a time of getting to know one another and being each other's closest confidants, Wyll knew it was time to take the relationship in a more serious direction. Wyll Imagined your first kiss would be underneath a canopy of stars. Alone so he could share all his feelings for you that he hoped you would reciprocate. Everything changed though when you took that arrow to your shoulder, mere inches away from your heart. Shadowheart had patched you up and now Wyll was here devotedly at your side listening to you chastise yourself for being careless and already planning a counterattack on the enemy camp. Reaching out carefully Wyll grabbed your hand to bring your attention to his gentle face. “Today I thought I would have lost you. In our adventures, I know there will be times when one of us will get hurt, maybe even killed. Please let me show you the depths of my affection before I am ever able to.” “How will-” “May I kiss you?” surprised you and gave a nod, with your permission Wyll gently dipped down to your still body and kissed your lips softly. His lips were as soft as you imagined they would be. 

Wyll from the moment you meet him you always think of him as the most self-sacrificing and selfless person you have ever met. He would give the shirt off his back for a stranger if need be. But after watching him long enough you noticed how he carried heavy loads and pushed himself so thin, and when he thought no one was looking he would wince and rub his neck. He needs to be shown how to treat himself better. In his tent he was resting his sore muscles when you walked in, a bottle of fine-smelling oil in your hand. “What-” but you are quick to cut him off “You have been neglecting yourself, let me rub this into your skin. Halsin says it's good for healing, now shirt off.” his cheeks warm, that same matter-of-fact nature he adores. The rest of the night was spent gently massaging all the knots and aching pain from his muscles…and talks of your futures after this adventure. the plan? You two staying together…

Your skin was so hot against his lips, every sweet whisper from his lips made your once stone-like body shake. The party's leader, always so composed, until underneath him… “You look perfect, here…and here…” As Wyll mumbles his praises he kisses every one of your scars tenderly, worshiping you in a way you didn't know you needed. Words die in your throat as he goes lower and lower till his lips are wrapping around your sex and you feel his tongue licking against you sloppy…Is this what it's like being worshiped by another? 

Astarion

When first meeting Astarion he was not so impressed by your cool and collected demeanor. Everyone at the camp had their quirks and then there was you, like a perfect impenetrable wall. Of course, He thought you had something to hide and was determined to get to the bottom of it. First getting through your walls was a challenge, he tried flirting and intimidation tactics but found that they didn’t make you stir in the slightest. (when in fact you know you would go to your tent after those conversions holding your hand to your chest like your heart was going to explode, but he didn’t need to know that.) It wasn’t until he stopped his facade and was more honest that you started to open up as well. Over time as he found out who you were and you found out more about him the two of you became fiercely protective of one another. Definitely a stranger to friends to lovers situation. In fact, on your first date you didn’t even realize it was a date till he told you. You were odd and not always easy to understand but for the first time in a long time he wanted to have real intimacy with someone and you wanted to let down your protective walls. 

You had gotten to him today with your bluntness, of course, he played the whole thing off like he didn’t care but inside he did and it was eating away at him not knowing why. It's late, the time of night that no creatures stir, well only one kind of creature does…his kind. You're asleep on your bedroll by the fire as per usual. You always sleep next to its warmth, Astarion figures that's what you crave like most creatures, warmth; something his cold body could never provide to you. Astarion shakes the thought, why would he even think of holding you? He doesn't even like you. Your damned aloofness pisses him off to no end. But as he is about to leave your slumbering side, you reach out and touch him. Your heated skin warms his icicle-like fingers, he half expected you to wake and recoil, but you didn’t you seemed to be eased by it. Your plump lips parted slightly as you dream. Slowly leaning down he keeps his crimson eyes on your face, completely unaware of the danger you are in. This is where he bites your neck and drains you of your blood like the monster he is. But instead, he brings his cold lips to your warm ones and kisses you. After a moment he comes back to his senses and pulls away. As he looks down at you now there is just the slightest curl of a smile to your lips. Sweet dreams he supposes.  

Astarion, usually so charismatic and open to say anything he wanted, had seemed to be rather reserved lately. Now you are usually one to never notice these changes in people but when it comes to Astarion you couldn’t help but notice those subtle shifts. It was late, but you knew he would be up, you went into the tent he had been reading and immediately started to put on his cocky dementor when he saw you but you just ignored it and sat next to him. “So why do I get the pleasure of such a late night visit darling?” looking through his short stack of books you pick one that seems the most interesting to you, open it then speak, “You have seemed off, so this is me being here for you. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, and I will leave if you would like.” you turn to look into his eyes “but spending time with you always makes me feel better so I am trying to do that for you.” Astarion seemed shocked but the confession for a moment before he gave you that rare soft smile. The night was spent in silence with you reading and he laid his head in your lap. Your warmth was exactly what he needed, but he wasn't ready to confess that yet.    

“Bite me…” Astarion looks down at you, your neck exposed and flushed, the slightest sheen of sweat causing you to glisten in the candlelight. He feels his gums itch above his fangs…he wants to feed from you…but would you think him a monster after? Insecurities and anxieties swirl in his mind. You two had just started getting intimate with one another…would this turn out to be too much for you, for him…Then a soft touch to his pale skin brings him back, “Star…Only if you're comfortable, but know I trust you. I just…I want to give you everything I can.” Your words are so calm, so confident in him, he loves it, feeling so safe with you. Leaning down slowly he Kisses your neck before sinking his teeth in. Your body tenses for a moment before you're lulling into the saccharine of pleasure. Breaking away he licks your running blood from your neck as he looks down at you. Please know…that he loves you, endlessly.

[ifightformyfriends]

You seem to have some thoughts on the matter. How do *you* feel about Baldur's Gate 3

Not really any opinions on BG3 specifically, except that it's clear that Larian put a lot more effort into balancing the game than WotC ever has, and it's unfortunate for Larian that the game's development was used to harbor Zac S accomplice Mike Mearls so that WotC could state he was no longer on the D&D design team when people were calling for consequences for his roll in bringing on, enabling, and protecting known serial sexual abuser and transphobe Zac S as a heralded consult in 5e's development.

Mechanically I've seen a lot of talk about how...not even true RAW, but improved RAW 5e just isn't as fun for people when there's not a DM to handwave things or allow cool off the cuff "Greentext" moments that have nothing to do with the actual ruleset being ostensibly played and paid for. Even with some added stuff for Martials to do there's no "Describe your attack" or "Make a called shot" that is so often used to downplay that Martials are on a whole different, lower magnitude of agency to exert influence on the world around them. And this is after Larian went out of their way to improve them! Buffed Action Economy, setpiece combat with interesting interactions, some semblance of giving them actual abilities, but it can't make up for the fact they're 5e Martials. It is hilarious seeing people brought face to face with the actual ruleset for the first time instead of what their DM does to make the system a fun experience.

And I just saw earlier today, it's got people talking about how there's so much Fantasy Racism if you play a Tiefling that is just so unnecessary except for the fact that it is RAW and how the game is presented without your DM and table going "But we're going to ignore that".

Which is very much the same in that it is people being brought face to face with the actual system WotC produces and sells for the first time instead of their DM's system they've agreed to give WotC credit for. I maintain that 5e was a system designed for passive revenue generation because D&D is the property Hasbro got as a free gift when they bought Magic the Gathering, and it was designed specifically for DMs who were used to 3.5's brokenness and doing the heavy lifting to run games for new-to-TTRPG players and that's why the true north of the ruleset development was to not look intimidating to new players. And for that narrow purpose, it succeeds! But then it got popular and the system was not prepared for such wild ideas as "New DMs wanting to run games without an internalized encyclopedic knowledge of the system". To use a car as a metaphor, WotC realized they could design a game that used the DM as the engine instead of the driver's seat, saving a ton in development costs in doing so. And BG3 has some people realizing that what they thought was a car was actually just a frame they paid full price for.

TL;DR: No significant thoughts on Baldur's Gate 3 really, same thoughts as always on WotC and 5e that people will awkwardly ignore and sweep under the rug until their NEXT big PR fiasco that they'll shallowly ask forgiveness for and people will somehow give them and the cycle will begin anew.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

I believe that one of the best things you can do for your mental wellbeing is to just give yourself things to look forward to. 

Your mind may go to expensive purchases or life changing experiences now, these bucket list items like “a month long international vacation” or “getting my own car” (or even something like “buying a whole new wardrobe and re-inventing myself after I come out” or “making queer friends once I graduated and moved out and cut my parents out of my life”) - but that’s not what I am talking about right now. In fact, for our purposes here it’s better if it’s not something like that! 

Big goals and long-term dreams are cool! Don’t give up on them! But if our only sources of that giddy “I can’t wait to do that!” energy are things that may only happen in a few years (or “when I get rich” or “once I’m healed” or “when I get braver” or maybe even never), well, that’s a good recipe for feeling unfulfilled and like our current life is empty and boring compared to that shiny fantasy. You’ll miss out on a lot of joy when you save up all your feelings of excitement for the “later”. 

So, this isn’t about big bucket list stuff and it also isn’t about any classic self-improvement techniques. If you look forward to exercise or meditation, all the more power to you (because obviously you’ll reap the mental health benefits of those things plus those giddy feelings)… but first and foremost this is about joy. 

This is about seeing the magic in the ordinary things, in the here and now (and yes, that sounds pretty lame. Sometimes you gotta be lame to be happy!). 

It’s also about feeling in control of your life. In order to look forward to something, you need to intentionally pick something to do. And that’ll feel so much better than just passively letting life happen to you or waiting for your “real life” to start or letting some algorithm choose which content to consume until it’s time for bed. It’s about not postponing joy until life gets better but making life better by making it more joyful!

So, how do you teach yourself to look forward to things and which things work best?

You need to set a (small, pleasant, easily achievable) goal and follow through on it.

It can be a small, special treat or reward, like “On Monday I’ll buy a candy bar after work” or “I’ll make a cup of my favorite tea tomorrow morning”. It can also just be being mindful of the things you do anyway: if you always listen to music while on the train, don’t just hit shuffle once you sit down and instead deliberately choose a specific album you want to listen to before you board the train. 

The trick is just to intentionally pick something fun to do and then let yourself feel pumped about doing it and then follow through with actually doing it. It doesn’t even need to be anything new or different than usual! If you always make pasta for dinner because that’s your favorite dish, then just deliberately spend some extra thought during the day on how freaking awesome it is that you get to eat your favorite dish again tonight! 

When you’re new to this, it’s best to pick something that’s in the near future, like later that day or the day after. You get time to build up excitement but you also get to follow through pretty quickly. So your brain gets to make the connection that happily looking forward to something is “worth it”! 

This can feel a bit ridiculous and fake at first, especially if you’re usually not an overly cheerful person. It’s okay if it feels a bit silly to be joyful about the prospect of eating pasta. Good news is, this is something where you can absolutely “fake it til you make it”. You may have to consciously remind yourself to be excited about it at first (it’s okay to use little helpers, like notifications on your phone or a good old sticky note somewhere you’ll see it!) - but even when it’s fake at first, your brain will forge those pathways and over time “happily looking forward to things” will become a natural habit that’ll add a bit of sparkle to the ordinary! 

And especially for those “waiting until I can be myself” cases: Yeah, finding magic in the ordinary will not “fix” living with homophobic parents or gender dysphoria. But it’ll give you some moments of light while you wait for things to get better. And you deserve that. Lighting some candles while waiting in the dark will always beat just sitting in the dark.

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[spatialwave]

just read your pre calc fic please write another omg it was soooooo good

eek, i'm so happy you liked it! i thought i'd use this ask as a way to continue the story. 🤍

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐. notes: fem!reader <- prev.

—

being tutored by angus tully had become far less tutoring and more learning about each other, and not through conversation. you knew it was becoming an issue when your grades hardly budged, moving up to a c-minus, which wasn’t horrible, but far from ivy league worthy. there was only one month left in your junior year, meaning one month left to make a good impact on your grades and head into senior year with a head start on calculus.

it wasn’t looking good for you.

even if you couldn’t muster an a-minus, you hoped that your extra curriculars would stand out on your applications. you could only put so much time in theatre, community volunteering and chess club—was pre-calculus really all that important?

especially when there were better things to worry about than math, such as the way angus’ hand on your thigh sent shivers up your spine. his brown eyes glued to the pages of the textbook, looking through his lashes as his thumb grazed over your bare skin absently. this closeness became your comfort, the library at your school often quiet enough in the evenings that you two could relish in each other.

it’s not like your peers would rat you out anyway, you had started to notice how many secretive relationships were had between the two schools. you became truly aware of the fact when you’d been looking for a history textbook one night and heard the sounds of soft breathing and moaning coming from an aisle over… though, you couldn’t be certain that it was a girl and a boy.

as you looked down at your homework, able to comprehend it better than the month prior, you found yourself wanting to focus on anything but the coursework due the following day.

“i think my teacher is getting curious of why my grades aren’t improving fast enough,” you murmured, dropping your pencil onto the textbook as you aired a concern that had been eating you away, “why can’t i get the hang of it?”

“maybe if you paid attention,” angus was quick to react, those eyes flickering to you as he straightened up slightly with his hand still glued to your thigh.

“wow, that is totally not my fault,” you breathed, annoyed at his lack of empathy over your situation.

“it’s my fault?” he asked, lips curving into a grin that exposed his teeth.

you blinked a few times, gazing into his eyes before you looked down at his hand and hoping he’d followed your gaze. when you looked back up, you saw the way he chewed on his lip, biting back a cheeky smile as he kept his hand there.

“fine,” he said, removing his hand, “i’ll be good.”

“thank you,” you said, straightening up and adjusting your skirt. you already missed his touch, but you knew this was for the better—you two had plenty of other opportunities to use your free time to get handsy. right now, you needed to focus on what was important.

the air was tense between you two as angus moved on with the content, keeping his distance as he explained equations that managed to stick. you knew it wasn’t like magic, you wouldn’t wake up tomorrow a pre-calculus genius, but it was quite magical to see the wonders that concentration could bring.

when the clock struck nine o’clock in the evening, it was curfew for all students. with a soft sigh you started packing your things into a pile so you could take them back to your room.

“sorry for being bossy,” your voice was soft, “i’m just getting worried about college.”

you looked over at angus, surprised to see the boy sitting there with a smile. admiring you.

“what?” you asked, feeling self conscious under his eyes.

“nothing,” he chuckled, “am i not allowed to look at you either? you are bossy.”

“i’m not in the mood for being teased,” you huffed, though your worries were immediately gone when angus leaned over and pressed his lips against yours. something you’d gotten used to.

the kiss was quick, but he didn’t pull back too far from you, his arm now extended over the back of your chair to keep you close.

“i’ll be careful at our next tutoring session, alright? i guess it’s hard to keep my hands from you. don’t realize i’m doing it,” angus admitted, his cheeks just the tiniest bit rosy.

“it’s okay,” you murmured in return, smiling at the awkwardness radiating from the boy you’d been crushing on—hard, “if it’s any consolation, if i had the willpower to concentrate i’d rather you kept doing it.”

a smile spread on angus’ lips as he laughed softly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on your cheek. a domestic action that made your stomach swirl, mostly because you two still hadn’t talked about what was happening between you. though, you didn’t really mind, the uncertainty made you giddy, rather than nervous, like you were each other’s secret.

“well, i should go,” angus sighed as he pulled away from you, but you were quick to reach for him.

“wait,” you squeaked, grabbing his wrist, “maybe you can stay for a bit. i mean, i feel like i deserve a reward.” you spotted the way the boy’s eyes lit in excitement, eager to see where you were going with this, “what do you think?”

a confident smile spread on his lips as you dropped your hand from him, those brown eyes of his flickering around the library to make sure that it was empty enough. you were filled with that excited uncertainty again, thankful that instead of putting his things away he whisked you far in the depths of the library shelves. a place the two of you had grown familiar with, a place where your hands had found spots up in the shelves to keep you upright while angus explored every inch of you that he could.

while you wondered what it would be like to decide on a title of what you two ‘were’, those thoughts were easily dismissed when his lips were on your neck. angus was good at making a mess out of you, hair wild and skirt pushed up to your waist as his lips and hands made quick work of leaving you breathless.

but you had enough breath to utter a few words that made you wish you could dig a grave for yourself.

“what are we?” you asked through a satisfied sigh as you focused on the feeling of his lips against your skin. it was cut short when angus’ face quickly pulled away from your collarbones where he’d popped open most of the buttons of your school-issued shirt.

“what?” he asked, curls wild and out of place, cheeks red.

“i—“ you stuttered, “i don’t know. i didn’t mean to ask. ignore that.”

angus swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he cleared his throat and pulled himself back enough to give you two some room.

“i don’t—“

“please, let’s not talk about it,” you whined, the silence between the two of you eating you alive.

nearly out of breath, angus laughed, lifting a hand to brush his curls out of his face, “let me talk.”

you didn’t answer, instead deciding to button up your shirt and fix your hair; you knew you’d be saying your goodbyes quickly. then, the boy’s hand grabbed at your chin and tilted your head so you were forced to look at him, your hands gripping at your half-buttoned shirt.

you saw how angus was trying desperately to be confident, but his twitching lips and pink cheeks spoke volumes on how nervous his was. you still wished you could turn back time and keep your mouth shut.

“do you want to know how i really feel about you?” he asked, and you prepared for the worst. you always did.

nodding slowly, you shuddered as his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“i… i really like you,” he murmured, “a lot… and i’m scared to mess it up. that’s why i keep my mouth shut about anything between us, i feel like if i decide to make this real then i’ll find a way to screw it up like everything else.”

the honesty was palpable, angus was wearing his heart on his sleeve as he aired everything out to you. you empathized fully, a smile breaking on your lips as you felt seen, and most of all—loved.

“i really like you too. like a lot… if you can’t tell.” you blushed, finding it hard to keep your eyes locked on his.

“i can tell,” he teased, rubbing his thumb along your cheek as the two of you allowed yourself the space to take pleasure in your admissions of romantic interest. he took in a deep breath and exhaled out, obviously doing his best to keep himself calm, “would you, uh… say yes if i asked you to be my girlfriend?”

elated. you were so elated to hear that question fall from his lips and you wanted to jump into his arms and laugh loudly with joy. though, you kept quiet lest you wanted your library rendezvous to end in detention.

a big, toothy grin spread on your lips and you spoke coyly, “sure. i’ll be your girlfriend.”

[the-eeveekins]

I love G-Witch's ending. While I do wish the journey had been longer, that we had gotten more time with the characters and the world, I would not change that destination. I still want it to end with Suletta saving her family at Quiet Zero.

"It's too happy, no one died!" I actually love this! Gundam has 45 years of bittersweet and occasionally downer endings. We can have one ending that is almost unambiguously a happy one. People always talk about finding non-violent solutions, about solving problems peacefully. And in a Gundam first, Suletta does that. She solves a violent situation with non-violence, and just this once, everybody lived!

"That was accomplished with bullshit space magic though!" Look, setting aside the fact that Bullshit Space Magic has been a part of Gundam since the original (and is often MORE bullshit in UC), this show is called The Witch From Mercury. If there was any Gundam series where Bullshit Space Magic saving the day and solving the problem is thematically appropriate and should not be an issue, it's this one.

"The bad guys lived and escaped jail!" I'm fine with this, especially since every good character survived too. And it's not like they didn't suffer any consequences. Miorine dissvolved the Benerit Group. Their empire is gone, along with their wealth and power. They may be free (for now), but they're definitely miserable. With Shaddiq's help, Miorine exposed the SAL's crimes, and considering the precarious position they were in previously, it's likely there was a major shake-up. The power structures in space were completely shaken up and changed, and much of it's power was transferred to Earth.

"What about Shaddiq?" Look, I definitely understand the contextual issues with Shaddiq being the only martyr. But in the show itself, Shaddiq accomplished his goals. He got to see the Benerit Group dissolved and their assets placed in the hands of Earthian companies, all without further violence. He secured the freedom of the women working for them, and importantly, they all now work for Miorine in her efforts to improve Earth and make reparations for Spacians. And as a last gift and blessing to Miorine and her new family, he took the fall for Quiet Zero while he was at it. Shaddiq may be imprisoned unlike the former BG members, but unlike them, he is a happy and satisfied man.

It's rare for the main characters in Gundam to enact massive, systemic change for the better, especially permanently. Amuro, Kamille and Judau did not change the world in any significant fashion. Their world was still mired in conflict after their reapective conflicts, to the point that Amuro dies in a later conflict and Judau gets so sick of things not changing for the better that he abandons Earth and later the solar system. Yet there is a lot of criticism that Suletta & Miorine didn’t solve all of Ad Stella's problems, that they did their part and peaced out. But their part was destroying the immediate threat of Gundams and Quiet Zero, they dismantled the Benerit Group power structure and put it in the hands of Earth and they exposed the SAL. They made huge changes to the world and they didn't stop. Miorine is still using her company to make amends for the BG's crimes and improve the lives of Earthians. Suletta has built a school on Mercury and is now building one on Earth. Even if they're not going to be fighting on the front lines, they're still fighting to make their world a better place.

That's not to say the ending is perfect. I don't think Nika should have spent 3 years in jail because of a guilty conscience and because Martin is a snitch. I don't think you should ruin the thematics of Suletta facing down and battling Quiet Zero by herself, but the part of me who loves to see giant robots fight wishes there could have been a way to involve the Demi-Barding, Pharact and Schwarzette in more action during the end. If not at QZ, then earlier in the series.

I personally believe a lot of the criticism of the ending boils down to preference, and people not preferring how G-Witch chose to end things, rather than those things being objectively bad. I think a lot of fans struggle to accept that G-Witch was trying to do something smaller, something different, and they still can't let go of wanting it to be something it never tried to be. Did it do what it wanted to do perfectly? Definitely not. It forgot what it was at points in S2 and I'd argue it actually cooked too good with it's background details, making people want more of something it never set out to do. But ultimately it was never trying to be a 50 episode war epic focused on the wider world. It was about these two girls and their families.

Suletta & Miorine's scene together in the wheat field on Earth is perhaps one of my favorite scenes in anime. Maybe in any media. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything short of their actual wedding.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

ok so what are some of the changes you would want in the upcoming harry potter hbo series. and since your blog is Harry centric so I'll ask how do you want him to be portrayed in the series ? what traits of him do you think the series makers should shine more light on ?

Okay, I have, like, a list of things I didn't like in the movies and could be improved upon by the show. The list I have here isn't just about things the show could improve, but also things I want to see in the show in general. I think most of my opinions are pretty common, though.

(Also I'm not sure how good the show will be, like, I'm somewhat hopeful, but also very cautious with my expectations. We should start getting casting announcements around in a few months, which could help indicate where this show is going)

Regardless, here's my list of top concerns for the upcoming show:

Harry's character

This is the one you questioned specifically and one that could make or break the show for me. I want Harry's sass and anger, I don't want him to be a self-insert for the audience the way he was in the movies. I want his actual character. The sass, anger, and tenacity that is Harry Potter combined with his kindness, compassion, and sometimes clueless awkwardness. Let him be smart, clever, and talented.

Harry in the books is so much more than "just Expeliarmos" and the fact people could think that about Harry is a legitimate crime against his character the movies committed. Truly character assassination that Harry isn't an exceptional wizard with the world's lowest self-esteem and cheeky attitude.

(Also, for the love of god, give him green eyes, please. Contacts exist for a reason and it'll be a good way to differentiate the new actor from Radcliffe)

2. Ron & Hermione's characters

I could probably just put a "make all characters like in the books" category since this is true for a lot of them.

Specifically for the other two members of the Golden Trio, I want Hermione to have her flaws, and Ron to be smart. He is talented and smart and just as skilled as Harry and Hermione. He isn't the dumb comic relief and I'm so mad the movies made him such. And Hermione isn't a perfect Mary Sue who can do no wrong. Let her put Rita in a jar. Let her show how much she actually appreciates Ron and Harry and their approach to problems, different as it is to hers.

3. Voldemort's everything

I didn't like Voldemort's design, I didn't like his characterization, I didn't like how he spoke, how he walked — none of it felt like Voldemort to me.

I want Voldemort to be scary, not some odd caricature of himself. Give me a Voldemort design that looks scary. Give him the red eyes, and make him look actually skeletal. And let him move elegantly, talk softly. He isn't shouting and throwing tantrums, usually, he is very deliberate in what he says and does.

Also, give him his weird sense of humor. In the books, he makes bad puns ("Wormtail is here to lend a hand"), I like my villains a little campy with bad puns but also terrifying.

4. Dumbledore's everything

Well, honestly, I have no complaints about Dumbledore in the first movie, my problems started after he was recast.

I want Dumbledore to speak softly. I need an actor who could say "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and make it work. I want an actor who'd smile like he knows things you don't as his eyes fucking twinkle, but could still look intense and even intimidating for the later seasons. I also want him to look whimsical and dress in the most absurd eye-catching robes you've ever seen.

5. On the matter of robes — wizard fashion

I want wizarding fashion. I want long robes, silly hats, colors, and patterns. I want the costume designers on the show to have fun with it. I want them to go wild.

The wizarding world should look whimsical and campy — that's part of the magic. I want it to look like a foreign world. Even the most purebloods of purebloods (like the Blacks) are more like the Addams Family than any serious drama. They have a sense of campiness and whimsy. Let wizards be weird as shit and show it in their dress and interior design (I mean, the Blacks hang house elf heads and have a troll leg umbrella stand, the Ministry of Magic has paper airplanes flying all around, they're weird).

6. About the more filler-y sections of the books

I want all the silly little plots that were removed from the movies. I think some of the more filer-y things add a lot to the books and to the whimsy of being a student at Hogwarts. I want the trio to sneak out Norbert, I want to see Peeves, the deathday party, all of these things that make Hogwarts truly feel like a magic school.

7. Hogwarts Castle

I love the castle of the movies and that of Hogwarts Legacy. Honestly, I think Hogwarts Legacy did a good job of capturing the feeling of the movies castle while making it its own new unique thing. I think the TV show should do something similar and kinda create a Hogwarts castle amalgamation of all previous iterations that would feel familiar and allow them to still use some of the same merchandise but also be new and unique at the same time.

8. Time period

I think this is a pretty common opinion, but I want the muggle clothes and sets to clearly be set in the 1990s. I want the show to be a period piece. I don't want to see smartphones, or modern fashion, or modern cars — none of that.

9. Age-appropriate casting

I'm not the only one who says this, but as great as Allen Rickman was, he was too old for the role. Part of the tragedy of Snape and the Marauders is how young they actually are. I think it'll just be much more heartbreaking if the actors looked as young as they're supposed to be.

(Including James and Lily in the flashbacks!)

10. Worldbuilding & extra scenes

Since it's a TV show and not a book, which opens up more perspective options, I would like to get, maybe, some extended Pottermore facts into the show. Like, to flash out the world in a way the movies didn't.

Additionally, I wouldn't mind if some extra scenes were added to build up characters we don't get as much of in the books and it could serve the plot. Like, as long as the scenes are added in a way which is like 'they might've happened in the books, we just didn't see them cause Harry wasn't there', that sort of thing without subtracting from anything else and without retconning or contradicting anything. Like, with good writers, this could be really well done, I'm just worried about them adding anything because I don't know how much faith I have in the whole project. But it could be cool if done well.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello raven! 🐉Anon here. What do you think the future of fae/human relation should or could be? Humans multiply faster & destroy nature for resources. I think briar valley should be fae exclusive for peace and safety of everyone. Just like diurnal fae. Assuming whatever pixie hollow equivalent exists in twst. Do we know in game where they live? Also what's your take on the senators? The idea of dead ghost like entities governing the living is very questionable to me. Maybe it's in their culture

Well 💦 look, I’m not claiming to be an expert on politics or foreign affairs… but I definitely don’t think isolating Briar Valley and making it fae-only would work out for everyone. Moreover, I think that would totally go against the messages and themes TWST is preaching (that very different people can befriend/understand one another and peacefully coexist).

The post gets sort of long, so I’ll place it under a cut.

PLEASE NOTE: due to the nature of this ask, I will be discussing (fictional) politics. There are also brief but non-specific mentions of irl politics. If you are not comfortable with that, then I advise you not read the rest.

Looking at modern Twisted Wonderland and at the course of history that Lilia has experienced, we can see that human-fae relations have already made considerable improvements. It isn’t perfect of course—and there’s still lots of work to be done. The point I want to focus on is that the dynamic between their races has been changing and will continue to evolve going forward. The same has happened with human-merfolk and human-beastmen relationships, albeit those are (to our knowledge) less bloody than the history with fae. I believe that humans and fae will continue to work toward a future where they can be side-by-side—not that there won’t be missteps along the way, but that’s a natural consequence of such a complex goal with many moving components to it. Mistakes and steps backward are expected and normal. I just want the parties involved to be able to pick up the pieces afterward and use those missteps as opportunities for learning and growth.

I don’t think the “humans multiply faster” point holds much water. That makes it sound like humans reproduce like bacteria, making hundreds and thousands of children/doubling the entire population every few minutes. It also assumes that the birth rate of humans never declines or stagnates. Even if this was a concern, it wouldn’t be the case until several generations down the line (and again, this is assuming that nothing is done to combat any rising tensions in this long stretch of time). However, Humans do currently make up the majority of the population, and this was noted to be a factor in why it is difficult for even the magically inclined fae to fend them off.

I also think that “humans destroying nature” isn’t that valid either?? The phrasing, again, makes the situation seem far more dire than it actually is. Humans (at least that we know of) are no longer pillaging the land and robbing other races of their resources. There are several environmental efforts being made in multiple countries to preserve nature (which isn’t as good as not destroying nature in the first place, but hey, I’ll take what I can get). Silk City makes use of its waterways for trade. Harveston folk farm and forage while using sustainable methods. Sunset Savanna has labs to research ecofriendly ways to mine and generate energy for the country. In fact, the Sunset Savanna’s people prioritize living in harmony with nature more than making technological advances. Merfolk and humans have developed programs to help integrate their two races, and I assume this would include teaching them about how their two worlds impact one another (though this point is the only bit of speculation of these examples on my part). It sounds to me like everyone (or mostly everyone) is making active efforts to preserve their environment, rather than continuing to ravage the land as their ancestors did hundreds of years ago. Wouldn’t it have been better for nature if it was never changed by humans in the first place? For sure. But we cannot exactly have them dismantling their own communities, so working hard to preserve what they have left is the next best thing.

Now, about the whole… “Briar Valley should only be fae” idea proposed in this ask 💦 as I said earlier, I don’t think it would work. Creating an ethnostate (a place where citizenship is restricted only to members of a certain racial or ethnic group) won’t magically fix or prevent problems. In fact, I would propose this segregation could potentially result in more complications over time. For example:

The current population isn’t entirely fae. This includes Sebek’s human father, as well as Sebek and his two older siblings, who are all half human. What would be the proposed process for handling these cases if suddenly only fae were allowed to be in Briar Valley? Would they have their citizenship and the rights associated with that revoked? Would they be forced to leave the country? Do you see why this could cause issues?

Briar Valley may become even more isolated and self-contained than it already is. This would create an echo chamber where the main ideas reasonably accepted are their own/that of fae. They’d become trapped in their own bubble, unopen to the idea of change or thinking differently, leaving the country stagnant and its people arrogant. That doesn’t bode well for when they go out there as socialize with foreigners, who may be treated as “less-than” by fae.

Racial tensions could heighten from Briar Valley being made fae-only, thus resulting in a new cycle of hatred and distrust. We saw this happen in the past, and history is 100% capable of repeating itself. Humans and Briar Valley fae didn’t know much of each other and so this lack of knowledge morphed into scary stories and prejudice toward fae. This “othering” eventually led to humans feeling entitled to invade fae territory and seize their resources. Give it enough generations of limited interaction, and these fears could be bred anew when humans don’t have the opportunity to really get to know and interact with/live among fae. The fae will become proverbial boogeymen again.

On the subject of diurnal fae, I think a lot of assumptions are being made about how they live 😅 We actually know very little about them, so I’d rather not make assumptions.

It is stated in Fairy Gala that smaller fairies gather in a place called Faeland. However, not all smaller fairies live there, as we see plenty of pixies in the wild on Sage’s Island as well as in Briar Valley. It’s also never stated that Faeland is ONLY fae. We shouldn’t assume that Pixie Hollow being all fae means that Faeland (its twisted equivalent) is the same. Pixie Hollow itself isn’t even entirely fairies either, so that’s a false basis to work off of. There are many other beings there or in Never Land that aren’t fae: the animals, Mother Dove, mermaids, pirates, dragons, etc. That means other races could also live in Faeland.

As for the senators, I think they’re fine? I mean, I don’t approve of how they act or think on a personal level but they serve their function in the story and how they’re written makes sense. Quite a few politicians irl are older and conservative, and the senators are a reflection of that reality. I wouldn’t even say letting “dead ghost-like entitles governing the living” is that out there, specific to Briar Valley culture, or “questionable”. It’s actually very common, just not in as literal of a sense of Twisted Wonderland is making it out to be. Many of the laws and court rulings we have today follow precedents established by far older treatises and other legal documents written by men long since passed. Policies that were relevant years ago shaped the thinking of today’s politicians who lived through those policies in their youth. Prejudices that developed in wars we no longer fight still exist to this day. The politics of the past influence and inform the politics of today; they are not separate things.